Rhapsody in B
by Lillybellis
Summary: When a rising musician falls in love with his small-town childhood friend, can their yearly New Year's Eve tradition bring them together once he rockets to stardom and leaves her behind?
1. Prologue: 1975

**This story will be ****twelve chapters long (including the prologue and epilogue), and even though it begins with a Charlie POV, the rest is in Bella's. It takes place over a series of New Year's Eves - the chapter titles will be named for the new**** year, not the old.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. This plot belongs to Tor, and I thank her for trusting me with her idea. The words are mine.**

* * *

*****1975*****

When you've lived your whole life in a small town, tradition begins to get a bit tedious. In a place like Forks, you're forced to do the same crap over and over, just because you're out in the middle of nowhere and you don't have a whole hell of a lot of options.

Fathers and sons didn't attend the same high school to maintain an idiotic birthright; they did it because there was only one high school in the whole damned town. Generations filed into The Forks Diner for dinner every Saturday night, not because the food was particularly good, or to keep up some kind of moronic custom. No, they ate at that diner because it was the only one within a thirty mile radius, and if they didn't they'd be stuck trying to choke down some god-awful homemade slop being passed off as dinner. I was a newlywed; I knew a lot about choking down god-awful homemade slop.

Since I'd spent the entire twenty-four years of my life forced into one bit of monotony after another, I wasn't exactly thrilled when Renee wanted to start up a New Year's Eve tradition. Unfortunately, she could persuade me to do just about anything when she gave me that look; batting her pretty brown eyes, her long eyelashes sweeping across her cheek. That look made me feel like my insides were melting, and it was the best and worst feeling I'd ever felt.

"Why is this guy from Bandstand on the TV?"

Renee stood at the stove, stirring something that for once actually smelled kind of good. I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist and she giggled, one of my favorite sounds in the world.

"It's a New Year's Eve show, Charlie," she answered, sounding a little bit mad. "He's going to do a countdown to midnight."

"What do we need to watch a countdown to midnight for? We have a clock." I held her tighter and kissed her neck so she'd know I was just kidding around.

She put down the wooden spoon she had been holding and stood there, her arms hanging down at her sides, not touching me. Renee and I hadn't been married that long; hell, we hadn't even known each other that long. Even so, I knew right away that I had messed up and gone too far.

Her hand finally moved when she reached up to rub her eyes, and I felt like complete shit because she was crying. I had made my own wife cry, and this wasn't the first time. I wasn't sure if it was because this was all so new to her, or if maybe she just didn't get my sense of humor. All I knew was that when I tried to make her happy, sometimes I made her sad, and no matter how I tried to avoid it, I always wound up stepping in the same mess over and over again.

"Don't cry," I said quietly, pushing a piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail back behind her ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't. I just...I miss being home. Doing these things makes me feel like I'm there with my family, even though I'm not."

She leaned back into my chest, so warm and small. I wrapped my arms around her, so tight, because I just wanted to protect her. I wanted her to have everything, but we were both so young, and we barely had a pot to piss in. If I could make her happy by watching a stupid countdown and eating whatever it was she was cooking that really did smell delicious, then I would do it.

"This means a lot to you," I said.

"I thought it would be a nice thing to do every year, something we could share with our kids once they're old enough, and then they could share it with their kids, and on and on and on..."

_Our kids_. I'd be lying if I said that thought didn't bring a smile to my face each and every time it crossed my mind. I couldn't wait to have babies with Renee. Little hell-raisers with my eyes and her free-spirit; the best things about both of us all wrapped up into one. The thought that one day we might share this with them made it a little bit easier to tolerate.

My hand grazed the bottom of her shirt, and I lifted it up just a little so I could touch the soft, warm skin of her belly. I smiled and kissed that spot on her neck she liked so much, the one that made her make that noise that almost always brought me to my knees. "We could get started on that right now if you want to."

She smacked my hand away, laughing. "You distract me, and I'll burn the beans! They're supposed to be good luck for the new year. If I burn them, who knows what'll happen."

"You're too superstitious," I said playfully as I turned to get a beer from the refrigerator. "What's going to happen is going to happen whether you burn your beans or not."

"I know that," she said, her voice a lot softer than it had been before. "I just want to start the new year off right."

"We'll be together, baby. There's nothing more right than that."

A couple of hours later, with the new year's beans perfectly cooked and put away in the fridge for dinner tomorrow, Renee led me into our cramped living room. She turned the volume on the television down, and then walked over to our worn-out record player, putting on one of her favorite LPs.

She held onto me tightly during the last few minutes of our first year together, and I sang off-key into her ear as I held her.

"_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day...When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May..."_

I dipped her when the song ended, and she laughed at me like she usually did. Everything was perfect; I had my girl with me, and soon we'd have a new year to make all new memories. I brought my lips to hers, their favorite place to be, and I kissed my wife over the cheer-filled countdown of the crowd on the television.

_'Five... Four... Three... Two... One...'_


	2. 1990

*****1990*****

I wanted to be anywhere but here.

I closed my eyes really tight and wished that there was some way I could go back in time. A year or two would work, and I wouldn't even need to return to anywhere special. If I had to, I'd go back to Jessica Stanley's thirteenth birthday party, when Lauren Mallory locked me in the closet after she'd tricked me into thinking we were all going to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. I'd even settle for that day I accidentally threw up all over the floor in Mrs. Benjamin's class when she'd made me give an oral report on _The Count of Monte Cristo_.

My mom had been there when I finally got out of that closet, and she had come to pick me up from school that day. If I tried really hard, I could still remember the way her fingers felt as she brushed them through my hair as I rested my head on her lap, and the way her voice sounded when she sang the song that always made me feel better.

But wishes were silly things that only kids believed in; I was fourteen now and old enough to know better. That was one of the things I'd learned over the past year. No matter how hard I wished or how much I hoped, nothing would change the fact that my mom wasn't here; that she just got sick for no reason and then went to sleep one night and never woke up. Even though it felt all wrong, I was getting used to her empty chair at the dinner table, and the way my dad looked so sad all the time. But it was days like today, when we had to keep living and doing things that were special to her, that were the hardest.

"Bells?" My dad peeked his head around the doorway, his eyes wide like they always were when he was about to ask me to do something he knew I wouldn't like.

"Yeah," I replied, looking down at my shoes as I banged the backs of them against the cabinet doors.

"Why don't you come out here and sit with your friends?" His fingertips bumped against the wood frame, but I couldn't hear the noise they made over the crowd outside.

What I really wanted to do was to sneak out the back door once he turned around, run the seventy-five yards over to our house and hide out in my bedroom all night. But I knew he'd never let me get away with that, so I just said, "Okay."

I slowly walked out of the kitchen and out into the restaurant, messing with the ties on the hood of my sweatshirt as I moved. Mom and Dad bought and refurbished the old Forks Diner back when I was five. Mom had run it on her own until she got sick, and after she died, Dad quit his job at the police station so we could keep the business. For some reason though, people still called him Chief. I helped out here after school and on the weekends, taking orders and making sure people's glasses were full, and stuff like that.

I ducked through the crowd of my parents' friends. I hated the way they looked at me now, all sad and sympathetic. Everyone always asked me how I was feeling and if I was doing okay. What stupid questions those were. I was feeling pissed and sad and angry all the time. And no, I wasn't doing okay. But I never told any of them that, because it would've just upset my dad.

So instead, I just gave them the best smile I could and kept my mouth shut. The men would pat me on the shoulder, and the women would always touch my face, smiling sadly as they told me how much I looked like my mom. I always said thank you, even though I knew I didn't look like her at all. I wished they were right, though. Mom was pretty. I was plain.

I made my way over to the lounge; the place mom had built so that we could have local bands play here on the weekend. It was set up for the kids, just like it always was, and the balloons and handmade signs my mom made were hanging all across the walls. There was a TV in the corner tuned into Dick Clark, just like my mom always liked it to be. My dad set everything up exactly the way it was last year, like he thought that keeping everything the same would mean that she'd be back with us again. I knew why he did it, but it made me feel more alone than ever.

The room was divided up into two groups: the middle school kids, and the high school kids. Eric Yorkie and all of his dweeb friends were huddled around one table playing with their Game Boys. The Aqua Net Brigade sat at the table next to them, hoping one of the boys would tear themselves away from Tetris long enough to flirt a little bit.

That barf bag Royce King sat in a dark corner on the other side of the room. His arm was around Rosalie Hale, and it scrunched up her big, pouffy, out-of-control perm hair. He'd been sucking her face all night when he thought no one was looking, but everybody looked at them, because they were both so beautiful.

Rose's brother Jasper sat at the next table, looking like he wanted to strangle both of them. Alice Cullen put her arm around him, and I wondered how long it would be until she asked me to cover for her so the two of them could go make out in the back seat of Jasper's car. Alice and I used to spend a lot of time together before she started dating Jasper, but now I mainly hung out with Jessica. She was away for the holiday skiing with her family, so I was on my own tonight.

"Jazz!" Emmett shouted, waving his hand in front of Jasper's face, because he had zoned out big time. "Quit worrying about kicking King's ass and help us with these lyrics. Edward! Get your ass over here!"

Edward Cullen stood at the window, looking out at the empty road in front of the diner. He was all hunched over and had his arms folded across his chest. He'd grown about ten inches over the last two years, and it always looked like he wished he was shorter again. He was real quiet, and when he wasn't thinking, he was writing about what he was thinking in a small notebook he carried around with him in his back pocket. He pulled that notebook out, flipped the pages and threw it over on the table, pulling a pencil out from behind his ear before he went and sat down.

I stood in the doorway holding the plate of vegetables I'd picked up at the buffet my dad had set up, not really sure where to go. I was too old to hang out with Yorkie and the middle school dorks, and I was too young to try and sit with the Cullens or any of the other kids from Forks High. So, I pulled up a chair at an empty table a few feet away from them, and focused really hard on the television.

I shoved a piece of celery in my mouth and kicked out the chair next to me, hoping that would make it look like a friend had been sitting there so people wouldn't think I was alone. The last thing I wanted was for another grown-up to tell Dad I was 'withdrawing myself from society'. My guidance counselor had called him into school to talk about that and ever since, it seemed like all he did was force me to be around other people. Couldn't I just be sad? What was so bad about that?

I zoned out, watching Richard Marx singing on the TV, but not really listening to the music. Rosalie Hale laughed out loud, and I looked over at her before I even knew what I was doing. I tried to play it off, looking around the room really fast, and I saw Edward Cullen looking back at me. I smiled at him like I always did, and he turned away. I felt embarrassed all of a sudden, so I paid attention to my plate and made a small fort out of carrot sticks.

"You like this music?"

Edward's voice startled me. My carrot fort went flying _and _I managed to knock my cup of water all over my shirt.

"Shit, I'll go get a towel," he said, and before I could stop him he was gone.

I unzipped my sweatshirt, pulled it off, and threw it over the back of my chair. My undershirt was a little bit wet from where the water came through the zipper, but it wasn't too bad.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," Edward said, looking at my shirt instead of my face. "You've got a wet spot right here-"

And just like that, Edward's towel-y hand was on my boob. His eyes got real wide and my face got real hot, but he didn't move one muscle.

"Way to feel her up, Cullen!" Royce King shouted out from across the room, and everyone started laughing. I just wanted to curl up and die, because sometimes Edward could be such a spazz.

I tried to swallow but my throat was all dry and I stared at his hand, because he was touching me in a place no other boy had ever touched me before. He jumped back quickly, and the towel he was holding fell on to my lap.

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna go-"

"It's okay, Edward." I laughed at him a little, because he was always so nervous. "You can stay."

"Yeah?" he asked. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

I actually liked spending time with Edward, even though I wouldn't ever tell him that. He was the only one who still looked at me the same as he did before my mom died. Even after he found me up at his meadow over the summer, the place Alice told me no one was supposed to know about, where he went to play his guitar and be alone.

I went there to cry that day, to yell and scream and kick the trees; to tell my mom how much I loved and missed her, and how mad I was that she left me. Who was I supposed to tell when I kissed a boy for the first time? Didn't she know that I still needed her and that I wasn't ready to give her up yet?

I sat in the middle of the grass when I was all screamed out, my face all snotty and hot and red. Edward showed up a little while later, but he didn't seem upset to see me there in his secret place. He just plopped down on the grass and scooched over until his back touched mine. He let me lean on him and cry as he plucked on his guitar and hummed pretty sounds that weren't quite words, but sounded nice just the same.

Edward gave me a ride home on the back of his bike that day. He didn't say a word to me then, and he hadn't said a word about it since. It was almost as if it never happened, and that was the best thing anyone had done for me since my mom died. The kids at school thought Edward was weird because he was really quiet and wrote songs and stuff. That was the reason why I liked him, and sometimes he didn't just feel like Alice's older brother. Sometimes it seemed like maybe he was my friend, too.

"You've been really quiet tonight, B," Edward said as he turned the chair around so he could rest his arms along the back.

"You're quiet all the time," I said. "No one asks you about it."

"True." The corner of his mouth went up into a smile. "But people think I'm a weirdo."

I laughed. "People are starting to think I'm a weirdo, too."

"No, they don't. They just think you're..." He stopped, because I knew he had said something he didn't mean to say.

"Withdrawing from society?" I asked. If my mom were here, she would've said that I sounded like a smartass just then.

"Sad," he said, reaching across the table until his hand was close to mine. He moved his fingers like he was playing the piano, and the tip of his middle finger kept touching my fingernail. I wondered if he was doing that on purpose. "Are you? Sad, I mean?"

Edward and his family had lived in Forks long enough to know that New Year's Eve parties were a Swan family tradition. He could tell just like everyone else could that this year was a lot different. "I miss my mom," I said, so quiet that I hoped he couldn't hear me. I knew he did though, because he stopped playing the pretend piano and his fingertips touched my fingertips.

"Do you remember that time she made us a Slip 'n Slide in your backyard with some garbage bags and a sprinkler?" he asked, laughing. "Emmett went too far and hit that tree."

"Yeah," I said, smiling. "And that time she tried to make cupcakes for the bake sale at school, but she ran out of batter so she cut them in half and frosted the tops and the bottoms."

"She was fun," Edward said, after being quiet for a little bit.

I felt like crying, but good tears this time. No one ever wanted to talk about her with me. All they ever did was try to keep me from being sad. I was scared that one day I would forget her.

"She gave me my first guitar, did you know that?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"She found it when she was cleaning out your attic. She taught me how to play that song she always sang to..." He stopped all of a sudden.

"She always sang it to me when I was upset," I said, making sure to smile. I didn't want him to think that he was making me sad.

"Do you have it on the jukebox?" he asked, looking at the old, junky thing in the corner.

"No, it's not...she wanted to put it on there, but Dad always said he liked the way she sang it." I missed hearing that song, so much. I hadn't heard it since the day she died.

"Maybe-"

"Hey," Alice said, pulling on my ponytail as she sat down next to me. "I thought I'd come over here and bug you two, since Bella looks bored out of her mind. I wish Mom and Dad had let us have our own party. That would've been way cooler-"

"Al, _don't_." Edward said, his eyes getting smaller as he looked at her.

Alice's mouth moved into a little 'o', and she shrugged her shoulders. "Get lost, dweeb, let me talk to my friend."

Edward smiled at me before he got up and walked back over to his table, where he sat down and started writing in that notebook of his.

"You should be nicer to him," I said.

"Bella, you have no idea how lame it is to live with those two." She pointed over at Edward and Emmett, who looked like they were talking about something that Edward had written.

I thought having a brother or sister would be nice; someone who could help me take care of Dad, and someone who would understand how I felt every day.

"Did your dad have a cow over your hair?" she asked, pulling a compact out of her purse so that she could check hers.

"Yeah," I lied. She'd come over earlier and curled it, but I washed it out after she left because I couldn't stand the way it felt to have half a can of hairspray in my hair.

"It sucks that your dad made you wash all of your makeup off. You had it looking pretty rad." She wiped her finger along the bottom of her eye, and when she was finished, a blue streak stretched out across her cheek. "Damn."

Dad didn't let me wear makeup, but I had some eyeliner and mascara that I carried around in my purse that I would put on once I got to school. I knew it was stupid, but trying to look like all the other girls made me feel like I fit in just a little bit, when I was different in so many ways.

"My brother thinks you're cute, you know," she said, looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she held her compact out in front of her.

"Edward?" I asked, even though I knew there was no way that could be true.

"No, _Emmett_. Of _course_ I mean Edward." Alice rolled her eyes.

She leaned in next to me, her hard, scrunchy hair poking the side of my face. "He said so the other day."

"No way." I knew she was trying to trick me. She got that same look on her face the night she tried to tell me that the kids on the Res at La Push turned into werewolves when the sun went down.

"_Yes_ way. We were watching _Saved by the Bell_," she began, leaning in closer. "And Edward said he thinks you're prettier than Kelly Kapowski."

"But with smaller tits." I looked over my shoulder, and Emmett's head was right next to mine. He was being nosy like usual, a huge grin on his stupid face. "You two shouldn't be whispering over here," he said, patting my shoulder before he walked away.

I looked down at my chest and frowned. I was fourteen years old and I could still wear my training bra. Alice was only a year older than me, and she was three times my size. Lame.

"Well, Emmett said _that_ part, but you get the idea." At least she looked like she felt bad about it.

Edward Cullen thought I was pretty. _Weird. _Alice probably misunderstood. Or maybe he just didn't think Kelly Kapowski was that pretty. Maybe-

"Hey Al, c'mere," Mr. Cullen yelled from across the room. Mrs. Cullen was standing next to him and she gave me a small wave, giving me that sad look that I hated so much. Just when I started to feel like a normal kid again, I remembered that I wasn't.

"You should come and sit with us when I get back," Alice said as she stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of her jean skirt.

"Maybe I will in a little bit. I should go check on my dad first." I really would go and check on him, but I just felt like I needed a minute to myself first, because I felt the tears coming. I was so, so _tired_ of crying.

I headed back to the kitchen so I could sit in my favorite hiding spot, which really wasn't a hiding spot at all, because my dad always knew to look for me there. I walked behind the bar, where my dad was leaning up against the counter, watching the crowd. I guessed he didn't feel much like participating tonight either.

"Bells," Dad said as he followed me through the doorway, but I didn't stop.

"I'm fine Dad; I just need a minute, okay?" I swiped at my eyes with my sleeve so he wouldn't see the tears; but it was too late, he already had.

"It won't always be like this, sweetheart," he said, kissing my forehead. It sounded like he was trying to make himself believe that, too. "I'm sorry you're stuck here with your old dad."

"Don't say that," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist as tight as I could. I squeezed him until I thought it would hurt, but he didn't tell me to stop.

"What's that?" Dad asked as I let go of him. "Do you hear it?"

The noise outside was loud, but there was definitely something happening out there. I went to the door to see what was going on, and when I got out into the dining room and past all of the people who were crowding around, I saw it. Edward was up on the stage in the lounge, tinkering on the piano. Not all of the notes were right, but enough of them were. I knew what he was playing. It was her song. _Our_ song.

I had never heard Edward sing before, but he was a lot better than I thought he'd be. I leaned back into my dad as Edward sang, just a little bit off key at first, because I could tell he was nervous.

"_Isn't she lovely. Isn't she wonderful. Isn't she precious. Less than one minute old..._"

One by one my mom's friends started in, and before long, everyone was singing along with the cute boy on the stage. I cried then, but they were happy tears, because for the first time in a really long time, I felt like maybe my mom really was with me again.

When the song was over and everyone was clapping, I turned around to look at my dad, but he was gone. I ran back into the kitchen and I saw him there, his arms spread out wide above the countertop, his hands holding him up.

"Dad?" I reached out to touch his shoulder, and from the way he was breathing, I could tell he was crying. His head drooped down so I couldn't see it, because he never did that when I was around. He reached over with his left hand and touched mine, but he didn't look at me.

"Chief." Edward stood in the doorway, his hands twisting around each other. He looked really scared. "I'm sorry, I didn't think...I meant for it to be a nice thing for Bella, and..."

Dad walked over to him, and for a second I thought Edward was going to run away. Instead, he stayed put, and my dad put his hand on that spot where Edward's shoulder curved up into his neck. Dad didn't say anything; he just looked at Edward for a minute, and then patted him there a few times before he walked away.

When it was just the two of us, Edward looked so sad. His hand shook as he reached over and wiped away one of my tears with his thumb.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said, and then turned around and walked out into the restaurant.

I ran out front to catch him, as everyone around us started the countdown to the New Year.

"Edward!" He was almost to the front door, and I didn't want him to leave here thinking he'd hurt my feelings; not when he'd made me happier than I had been in a really long time.

"Oof," he said as I ran into him full-speed and wrapped my arms around his neck without even thinking. I held onto him really tight, even though he didn't hug me back.

"Thank you." I went to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head towards me. Half of my lips touched half of his lips, and I froze with my eyes open, looking at the side of his nose. I didn't want to stop, because I was kissing a boy for the first time _ever_, but it was _Edward_, and I knew that I should.

"Bella," he said quietly as he pushed me away, stumbling backward and knocking over the coat rack. "I..."

"Happy New Year!" Everyone that had gathered around the TV in the other room cheered as Edward stood in front of me, not saying anything.

I bent over to pick up the coat rack and give myself time to think about what I'd just done. It was an accident, and I didn't want Edward thinking that I thought we were something we weren't. Just like that day in the meadow, it would probably be best if we pretended like it never happened.

I turned around to smile at him, to let him know we were okay, Alice's friend and her older brother and nothing more than that. But when I looked in his direction all I felt was the cold air against my face as the door slammed shut, the bell clanging loudly against it.

He was gone.

"Happy New Year, Edward," I said, but I was the only one who heard it.


	3. 1991

*****1991*****

"I've fallen, and I can't get up!"

All I could see were Jasper's feet as his ratty old tennis shoes shot up in the air after he rolled off of his chair and onto the floor. Emmett laughed so loud I could feel the table vibrating, and the two of them were acting even more stupid than they usually did.

"God, I love that commercial," Emmett said as he locked hands with Jasper to pull him back up onto the seat. "Every time that old lady falls down the stairs..."

"Emmett cracks up like an idiot," Edward whispered, right into my ear. His warm breath made me shiver.

I looked over at him and he smiled at me before he went back to writing in that notebook of his.

"Are you writing a song?" I asked, curious why he was always, _always_ writing in that thing whenever I was around.

"Kind of," he said, and his eyebrows went together like they did when he was thinking. He was always thinking. Always thinking and always writing in that notebook. Yep, that was Edward.

"Kind of?" I laughed, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear so I could see him better. "Either it _is_ a song, or it _isn't_." I bumped my shoulder with his and he smiled.

"It _is_ a song. Well, lyrics to what I hope will be a song someday," he said, and he moved closer to me so our arms were touching.

All the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up all of a sudden, and I put my hand on them to make that feeling stop. It was a little colder on this side of the diner than it usually was.

"What's it about?" I asked, peering over to look at his notebook. He was too quick for me though, and he hid what he had written with his hand like I was trying to cheat on a test or something.

"Uh...well...It's-"

"Mike's not coming," Alice sighed as she plopped down in the chair next to me.

"He's not?" Jessica and I asked at the same time, and I felt like my stomach fell all the way down to my toes. I had kind of figured that out already though, since it was eleven-thirty, and he still hadn't showed. He didn't say he _would_ come, he just said that he'd _try_.

Mike and his family had moved to Forks over the summer, and he sat next to me in almost all of my classes. Mike was goofy, and he made me laugh. He made me feel like I was fifteen – not like a grown-up, and I loved that feeling so much, because I felt like I was a grown-up most of the time.

I felt like I was missing out on _so much_, and sometimes it made me so mad that I just wanted to scream. I didn't want to have to help out at the diner all the time. I wanted to talk to Alice on the phone about boys after school, and go on a real date to the movies in Port Angeles on Saturday nights like all the other kids did. I said that to Dad once, when I was really, really upset, and when he was finished yelling at me he told me that I was a selfish little brat, and I knew that he was right.

Later that night, after I'd cried more than I ever had in my whole life because I felt like such an awful person, Dad knocked on my door. When I opened it, he was down on the floor on his knees, and his face was redder and wetter than mine was. He held me real tight and talked against my stomach, telling me he was sorry over and over. I told him I was sorry, too, and I promised myself then and there that I would never make him look like that again.

"Bella?" Alice asked, waving a hand in front of my eyes. "Earth to Bella..."

"What?" I asked.

"You zoned out big time," Jessica said, rolling her eyes. I didn't know what her problem was; she acted like she was my friend, but half of the time it seemed like she couldn't even stand me.

"Sorry." I looked down at my glass. I swirled my hand around the rim of it to the beat of the music that was playing in the background.

"We were talking about _Mike_." Alice said his name like she was singing a song, and she waggled her eyebrows in the same stupid way she always did whenever we talked about him.

I decided I was going to start doing that whenever we talked about Jasper, just to see how much she liked it. We talked about Jasper a _lot_ ever since the two of them broke up. I didn't even know why they bothered; they still thought about each other all the time. Except now, instead of talking to Jasper, Alice was always asking me if he was looking at her in the lunch room, and Jasper was always asking me if Alice had been talking to other boys. Being caught in the middle of the two of them sucked.

"He said he might come over to the house later, since our parents are out of town." Alice looked over at Jasper, and he got that really dumb-looking grin on his face. I wondered if they were going to fight or make out tonight. I could never tell with them anymore.

"Ugh," I said, cringing at the loud scraping noise my chair made against the floor as I pushed out from the table, because I had to get away from the two of them for a few minutes. "I'll be right back." I had been meaning to go check on Dad earlier anyway, and I just realized that I'd been hanging out with my friends all night and hadn't seen him once.

I walked around the edge of the room to avoid the crowd of kids that was forming in the middle of the room. Someone had put some fast songs on the jukebox, and they moved a few tables out of the way. With all the balloons and streamers in the room, it looked a little bit like the Winter Formal we had at school a few weeks ago. Well, I guessed that's what the formal had looked like. I helped decorate the gym, but Dad wouldn't let me go to the dance.

"Bella," Edward said, once I was almost to the doorway. I turned around and he was so close I could smell the laundry detergent Mrs. Cullen had washed his shirt in. It made me think of that day we'd spent in the meadow, when he gave me a ride home on his bike. I had my head smooshed against his back and my arms wrapped around his waist so tightly. He smelled the same that day, too.

"You okay?" he asked, and his hand moved through my hair to rest on my shoulder.

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound too annoyed. "Alice and Jasper…"

"I want to lock the two of them in a room together until they work things out," he said, his hand moving down to the top of my arm.

"Actually, you probably don't-"

"Stop," he said, smiling. "I don't want to think about my sister like that."

"Okay," I laughed. "I'm just going to go see if Charlie needs any help. I should've checked on him earlier. I'll be back in a sec." I turned away, and some of my hair caught on his watch.

"Ow!" I cried, rubbing the stinging spot on my head where my hair had been pulled and ripped out.

"Smooth move, Edward Scissorhands!" Eric Yorkie shouted from a few feet away.

"God, I wish that movie had never been made." Edward shook his head as his face turned ten different shades of red. "Are you okay?" He took his watch off real quick and put his hand over mine, right on the side of my head.

"It didn't really hurt that bad," I admitted quietly. "It just surprised me, that's all." My face was turned to the side, almost like I was talking to his wrist. He smelled so good there. "And it's your fault people call you that," I teased. "You shouldn't have stabbed Mr. Banner."

"It didn't _stab_ him," Edward said, his lips turned up into a smile. "_He_ walked into _my_ scissors."

"Never cut things while you're walking down the hallway." His hand was still on top of mine, and his thumb was moving just a little bit over my skin there. "They taught us that in kindergarten."

"I know, I know," he said, his face so close to mine. His breath smelled like Coke and bubble gum. "I'm sorry I hurt you, B."

"You didn't." His hand slid down my arm so lightly it tickled. "I better go check on my dad."

I walked back behind the bar and into the kitchen. Once I was back there I pulled a glass down off of the rack and filled it up with ice and water. My face felt really hot.

"Are you having a good time tonight, Bells?" Dad asked as he wiped his hands on the towel that was flung over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," I sighed. I'd be having a better time if Mike Newton had come, but a girl just wasn't supposed to tell her Dad things like that. "Are_ you_ having a good time?"

"I'm gettin' by," he said. He leaned on the countertop across from me. "You should be out there with your friends, not worrying about your old man."

"I'll go back. I just wanted to spend some time with you." I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my head against his chest. I knew he liked it when I did that. He told me it reminded him of the times I was little, because he was sad I was growing up too fast.

"I'm okay, sweetie. I promise." Dad rubbed my back and held me just as tight as I held him. "Is it getting a little bit better?"

I nodded. "A little bit." I didn't feel like someone had cracked my chest open when I thought about my mom anymore. Now there was just an empty spot in my heart all the time. I guessed it would probably always be there, just to make sure I never forgot her. "You?"

"A little bit." Dad kissed my forehead and pushed me back gently. I grabbed onto his waist even tighter than before, and he laughed. "Get out of here and go spend some time with your friends before I put you to work," he said, and swatted me with his towel as I walked out the door.

When I got back to our table, I sat down in my spot next to Edward again. He had put his notebook away at last, and was staring into his glass like it was a Magic 8 Ball.

Alice slapped her hot pink bracelet on her wrist, then straightened it out and slapped it back on again as she stared at Jasper. She had that look on her face that she got when he'd done something to make her mad, but I couldn't figure out what that could've been. They hadn't said two words to each other so far tonight. I wished they'd make up.

"That's really annoying," I said, hoping she would just stop snapping that bracelet already. She did it all the time, to the point I was just ready to break the thing.

"Mrs. Cope said the fabric can come off, and when you slap it it'll cut your wrist," Jessica said. "She told us we could bleed to death if that happens." Jess always believed the stupidest things. She thought that if you drank Coke and ate Pop Rocks your stomach would explode.

Alice sighed and rolled her eyes. "Don't be an idiot, Jess. Mrs. Cope-"

"This party is boring as hell," Emmett interrupted loudly, pouring something from a small silver container into his glass of Coke. "I mean, it's not your fault Bella, but God..."

"What's that?" I asked, pointing at the thing he had in his hand.

"A flask," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"A flask? What's it for?"

Emmett, Alice, Jasper and Jess laughed at me, like I was missing out on some big joke. Edward didn't laugh at all, he was just looking at me with a funny expression on his face.

"It's got liquor in it," he said, leaning over the table so that none of the kids at the other tables could hear us, even though I doubted they could anyway since the music was so loud. "I made a Rum and Coke."

"A Roman Coke?" I asked, and everyone but Edward started laughing again.

"For someone whose Dad runs a bar, B, I swear...it's a _rum _and_ Coke_," he said, talking really slowly and pausing between each word like I was an idiot. "Here, wanna try?"

"Okay." Emmett slid the glass across the table so that I could take a sip, but Edward pushed his hand away before I got the chance to taste.

"Emmett, are you _insane_? The Chief is in the next room!" Edward kept the glass in front of him instead of giving it back to Emmett. "I know you're upset about Hale, but don't be an ass."

"I'm not upset," Emmett said, even though we all knew that wasn't true. Emmett had a lifelong crush on Jasper's sister Rose, and for a split second this past summer he finally thought he'd had his chance. Royce's family moved away to California, and Em and Rose had dated briefly, before Em headed off to U-Dub. The Kings moved back to town right before Christmas, and Royce and Rose got back together, breaking Em's heart. He hadn't been himself since.

"One day I'll kick King's ass on your behalf," Jasper piped up, and I could see Alice sit up straighter in her seat. I'm sure whatever love-y face she was giving him would make me sick.

"Mom said we had to stay until midnight, but after that we're out of here," Emmett said, and he looked at me like he was sorry that he didn't want to stay any longer.

"You should come over, Bella. Mike said he was going to try to sneak out," Alice whispered.

I'd never lied to Dad before, but I also hadn't gotten a chance to spend time with Mike outside of school. I wasn't allowed to date until I was sixteen, but maybe…"I'd need a ride," I said. "And I can't tell my dad I'm going to your house, because he knows your parents aren't home. He'd never let me go."

"Jessica will take you, won't you Jess?" Alice asked, looking desperate. I wasn't sure why she was in such a hurry to get me and Mike together, but I was grateful for it anyway.

Jess looked like she really didn't want to go along with Alice, but she wanted to fit in too much to ever tell her no.

"You can just tell Charlie you're going over to Jess's house, right?"

"Yeah," Jess said, leaning forward, closer to Alice. "He'll believe you."

"I dunno." I really, _really _didn't want to start telling lies to my dad. "I'll have to think about it."

"You wanna dance, Al?" Tyler Crowley's arm hit my shoulder as he held his hand out between Alice and me. I hadn't even noticed that a slow song was playing.

"Sure," she said, but instead of looking at Tyler, she looked right at Jasper, who immediately started cursing under his breath.

"Do you like to dance?" Edward asked, but it came out like one big, jumbled up word.

"You mean…slow dance?"

"Well, yeah," he said, tracing the checkered pattern on the tablecloth with his fingernail. "I thought maybe you might want to…"

"Won't Lauren be mad?" I asked, watching my fingers while they twisted around each other in my lap.

"What?" His voice was low, like he was trying to hold back a cough.

"You took her to the formal, and I just thought that you two-"

"It's not like that with Lauren and me," Edward said. "My mom wouldn't stop nagging me to go - she didn't want me missing out on it since I'm a Senior. And the person I wanted to ask..."

"What about her?" Edward never really showed much of an interest in girls. I wondered who it was he even _thought_ about asking.

"Nevermind," he said, shaking his head. He was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke again. "Do you think you might want to dance?"

"I probably won't be any good at it - I'll step all over your feet. I've never danced with a boy before." Right away I wished I hadn't told him that, even though I was sure he already knew anyway.

"I'll show you how." His hand rubbed the back of his neck, and he was looking at my lap, not at my face.

"Okay," I said as I stood up. Edward stood up at the same time too, and our foreheads knocked together.

"Show her how to do the Lambada, Eddie!" Jasper yelled out after us.

"Don't listen to them," Edward said as I turned around to look at him.

When we got out onto the dance floor, Edward gently put his hands on my hips and pulled me close to him.

"Put your arms around me like this," he said, taking his hands off of my hips to bring both of my wrists up around his shoulders, clasping my hands around the back of his neck. He was just a little bit too tall for that position to be comfortable. "Your arms are stretching a little too much, aren't they?"

"Kinda," I said, feeling the skin underneath where his hair stopped. That spot was really soft to put my hands on.

"Here." He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me up a few inches, so that my feet were on top of his. "Is that better?"

"Yeah, but aren't you uncomfortable?"

"No," he said, moving his other hand that was still on my hip around my back so that he was holding me against him, so close that my stomach touched his stomach.

We kept dancing as everyone counted down to the new year, and once the ball dropped and everyone around us cheered, Edward leaned down until his lips almost touched my ear. "Happy New Year," he said, and then he kissed my forehead, just like I'd seen him kiss Alice's so many times before.

"Happy New Year," I replied, but my heart was beating fast and my voice didn't feel that strong, so I wasn't sure that he heard me.

"B?" I could feel the stubble from Edward's chin in my hair when he rested it on top of my head.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?" His hand grabbed a bit of my hair and twirled it around his finger. It was probably tickling him as he held me, because it was way too long.

"You just did," I teased, but he didn't laugh. "Go ahead."

"Why do you like Mike Newton so much?" Edward asked, and it sounded like he'd been waiting his whole life to ask me that question.

"Um...well...I think he's cute. He tells me lame jokes all the time, but I know he does it just to make me laugh. He sharpens my pencil for me every day in Geometry. When I'm with him my heart feels like I just ran the mile in P.E.," I explained. "He holds the door open for me all the time, too."

"I hold doors open," he said, and I could feel his thumb moving so slowly across my back.

"I know. I really like that about you." I thought maybe I should say something else, but I didn't.

"What else do you like about me?" he asked as we swayed to the music.

I wanted to tell him that I liked the way I felt so comfortable around him. I liked how I could tell him _anything_, and he never made me feel like I was a horrible person for feeling the way that I felt. But he was _Edward_, Alice's brother who gave me rides home, and always made sure I was okay, and kissed me on the forehead like I was his sister. I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say, so I-

"God, Chief!" I heard someone squeal after a loud pop went off in my ear.

The next thing I knew I wasn't on Edward's feet anymore, and he wasn't twirling my hair or holding onto my waist. Dad had his hand around my elbow and was pulling me back, holding a couple of balloons and a pin in his hand.

"Dad!" I said as he pulled me away, and poor Edward, he looked so embarrassed to be caught dancing with me.

"I told you Bells, no dating 'til you're sixteen," he said, his voice so loud over the crowd now that they were quiet and the jukebox was off.

"He doesn't want to _date_ her, Chief," Yorkie yelled, and everyone laughed.

"You watch your mouth, son," Dad said, pointing at Yorkie as he dragged me in between my friends toward the kitchen, and I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

Once we were in the kitchen, he let go of my arm, and I rubbed my skin where it burned just a little from where he had grabbed me.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, sweetheart," he said, reaching over to touch that spot. "I lost my mind when I saw you out there with that Cullen boy."

"But Dad," I started to say, and I knew I sounded like a whiner, but sometimes that was the only way I could get him to hear me out. "We were just _dancing_, Dad. It's not like you caught us up on Crescent Point making out or something. I don't even _like_ Edward Cullen like that. We're just friends. He treats me like a sister."

Dad rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, and when he finished, his eyes were all red and wrinkly and he looked really, really tired.

"Bells, I'm trying here, okay? You've got to cut your old man some slack. I let you get that permanent in your hair, and I've let you slide when I've seen that blue stuff on your eyes. I even let you go see that New Boys on the Street concert-"

"New Kids on the Block, Dad." He never could get that name right.

"Whatever. My point is that you can't date until you're sixteen." His arms were folded across his chest, and I knew I wasn't going to win this one, but I tried one last time anyway.

"It's not dating, it's dancing. Mrs. Cullen lets Alice do it." It was a pretty lame argument, but it was worth a shot.

"Bells, if your friends' parents are okay with them touching and grinding and groping on each other, well, there's nothing I can do about that. But as for you young lady, no dating, no dancing, no kissing, no touching, no holding hands, no passing notes, and no sitting within twelve inches of a boy until you turn sixteen, understand?" He put his hand on my shoulder, as if that made the fact that I was a total freakazoid better somehow.

"Can I at least go over to Jessica's tonight?" I asked, not even thinking about the fact that it was a total lie before it came out of my mouth. If Dad freaked out about me dancing with Edward, his head would explode if he saw me with Mike. If I wanted any chance with him at all, I had to sneak around. I wouldn't turn sixteen for nine whole months. He wouldn't wait for me. Nine months was _forever_.

"Are her parents home?" he asked. They had gone to a work thing and hadn't come to the diner tonight.

"Yep," I said. _That_ wasn't a lie. They probably were at home. "She said she'd bring me home first thing, promise." I really hoped that he wouldn't ask _her_ that, because I wasn't sure she'd back me up.

Dad rubbed the back of his neck for a second. "Alright," he said. "But you be home by nine."

"Thanks Daddy!" I squealed as I jumped up and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm only 'Daddy' when I let you do something you want," he shouted after me.

"I love you," I replied as I ran out the door, because no matter what, I always did.

The Cullens were long gone by the time Jess and I left the diner. When we got to their house, Edward was sitting out on their enclosed front porch, swinging on the porch swing with his notebook and guitar. He had his Walkman on his lap, and his headphones were hanging around his neck.

He motioned for us to be quiet as he said goodbye to someone on the phone.

"Who was that?" I asked as I walked towards him after he'd hung up, even though I felt kinda nosy.

"I've gotta go call my mom!" Jess said as she ran through the front door. I could hear Emmett and Jasper laughing inside as the door slammed behind her.

He shook his head at her as he looked at the door for a minute, almost like he was in some kind of trance. "Um...Mom and Dad were just checking up to make sure we were behaving," he said as he moved over on the swing.

"Can I sit with you?"

"Yeah." He took his Walkman off and set it beside him. The swing creaked a little as I sat down. "Mike's on his way over."

"He is?" I asked, trying not to sound too excited, even though I really was.

"He said he'd be here in a half hour or so." Edward sounded really disappointed. "Does your Dad know you're here?"

"No. He thinks I'm at Jess's house." I couldn't look at Edward's face as I said it, because I felt like a total scumbag liar.

Edward nodded, but he didn't say anything about my lie. "Well, I guess you're happy," he said, strumming a chord on the guitar strings. "About Mike coming, I mean."

"Yeah. I don't know why, though. You heard my Dad. I can't date until I'm sixteen."

"If he's smart B, he'll wait for you." He plucked one string and played a high note over and over, looking at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I wanted one of these for Christmas," I said, turning Edward's yellow Walkman around and around in my hands, trying to change the subject. I hated myself for feeling disappointed that I didn't get one. I knew we didn't have very much money since mom died.

I thought Edward was ignoring me as he sat there strumming on his guitar, but the music stopped when he put his fingers across the strings that were on top of that big hole in the middle. He tapped on the wood a few times and watched his feet before he finally looked at me.

"Sometimes, Bella...we can't always have what we want," he said quietly as his eyes watched my mouth, and I wondered if maybe I had something stuck on my lips.

I licked them, just to check, and Edward let out a small groan and turned away. He could be so weird sometimes.

"Are you going to sing to me like you did last year?" I asked, hoping to make him act like _Edward _again.

"You...you want me to?" He looked really surprised.

"Well, yeah. I like hearing you sing. It could be our thing, you know? You sing me a song on New Year's. You're going away to college next year, and I'll hardly ever see you. It'd be nice to have a-"

"Tradition," he said, finishing my sentence. "_Our_ thing." He smiled at me, so big.

"Definitely." I reached over and touched a string, but his eyes never left my face.

"Do you want me to sing your mom's song like I did last year?"

"Um..." I thought about it for a few seconds. "No, I don't think so," I told him. "I love that song, but it'll make me cry, and I don't want to cry tonight."

Edward nodded. "Knock knock."

"What?"

He repeated himself, smiling. "I said, knock knock."

"Who's there?" I asked, grinning back at him.

"Bella."

"Bella who?" I was giggling already, even though I knew the joke would be dumb.

"Bella bottom pants."

We both cracked up as we sat there on that swing, going back and forth really slowly and having a pretty good time.

"That was bad," I told him, but I was still kind of laughing when I said it.

"I know," he replied. "But I made you laugh, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, bumping my knee with his. "Do you want me to pick a song, or do you?"

"I want to pick, please." I thought for a minute, and smiled really big when I thought of a song I wanted him to sing. But before I could say it, Edward spoke, almost as if he could read my mind.

"I'll sing anything but _that_," he said, and I thought for a second that maybe he _could_ read my mind.

"Okay," I replied, looking up at the ceiling, trying to think of another song. "If you won't sing _that, _then I want you to sing…_Livin' on a Prayer_." I knew how much he hated that song, and he did say _anything_.

Edward shook his head. "Okay, anything but _that _and the other one_."_

"Nice try, Cullen, but nope. You said 'anything', and that's the 'anything' I want."

"I swear, you have the worst taste in music, B," he said as he moved his guitar under his arm to play.

"I like _your_ music, so my taste can't be _that_ bad."

He thought for a second, and then moved the guitar further down his lap until it was sitting face up across his legs. "Bella," he said, reaching out and playing with my fingertips as they rested on my lap. "I did something that I want to talk to you about."

"Will you sing to me first?" I asked, squeezing his fingers. I really wanted him to sing and I knew he was trying to stall.

"If I _have_ to," Edward said, laughing as he picked the guitar back up and positioned himself to play. He acted like he didn't want to do it, but he grinned anyway.

I closed my eyes when the song began, because hearing him sing was one of my favorite things, even if it was a song he didn't like very much. I couldn't keep them closed for long though, because I loved the look on his face when he was singing. He looked like he had just eaten a really good piece of chocolate, or his mom's spaghetti, and I could tell there was nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. He always played songs just a little bit slower than they were supposed to be, and he made them sound like _his_, even though they weren't.

I clapped when he finished. He hated it when I did that when it was just the two of us.

"Thank you," I said. "I loved it."

He reached over and brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen in my face, and just then, a pair of headlights flashed in my eyes as they rolled to a stop in the Cullens' driveway.

My heart started racing. It was Mike.

Hard footsteps pounded up the stairs, and when the door flew open, it wasn't Mike's face I saw. It was my dad's.

"Get your ass in the car, young lady," he yelled, and I could see the vein popping out in his neck, the one that always told me I was in huge trouble. "_Now_, Isabella Marie."

_Oh, God._

"Thanks for looking out for her, Edward," Dad said, but I didn't hear Edward's response over the door slamming.

"I'm sorry," I said as I ran across the pavement to keep up with him.

"You're _going _to be sorry," he said as I got in the car. It was still running; he hadn't even turned it off.

We drove the rest of the way home completely quiet, Dad's hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.

I thought about what had happened on the way back, recounting the past few minutes of my freedom which were sure to be the last ones I had for a long, long time. I would be grounded for sure. I replayed my Dad's words in my mind, over and over again.

_Thanks for looking out for her, Edward. _My insides hurt as I thought about what those words meant; there was no way the Edward I knew would do such a thing.

Except that he _had_ done it. Edward had ratted me out.


	4. 1992

*****1992*****

"C'mon, Bella." Mike led me back into the pantry and pulled the long string that hung from the light bulb above us, darkening the room. He pushed the door until it was almost shut; a small bit of brightness shining off of the metal shelf behind him, allowing us to still be able to see each other. "I'll be able to see if your Dad comes," he whispered, snaking his hand around my back so that it was almost resting on my butt. The longer we were together, the closer he got to touching me there.

"Are you going to make out with me with your eyes open?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"We're not going to _make out_," he whispered against my ear, making me shiver all over. "I just want to kiss you a little bit. Like _here_, because your eyes are so pretty," he said, kissing each of my eyelids softly.

"And _here_," he breathed as his lips touched my cheeks. "Because whenever I say nice things to you they always turn so pink."

"You always say nice things to me," I said softly, kissing him on the chin.

"That's because I love you." He reached down to my neck and touched the heart-shaped locket with a pretty cursive 'B' on it that he gave to me for Christmas. The first time he put the gold chain that locket hung from around my neck was the first time he'd said those words to me. I still hadn't said them back yet, but I would someday, I just knew it.

Because I couldn't tell him what I knew he wanted to hear, I wrapped my arms around his neck, stood on my tiptoes and put my lips on his. He smiled against my smile, and he laughed as I tugged at his hair. He always liked it when I did that. Sometimes I felt like I was fumbling, not quite doing things right; but when he made that noise and held me closer, I started to think that maybe I wasn't so bad at this after all.

I _shouldn't _have been bad at it, that was for sure. Mike and I had practiced just about everywhere. His car, my truck, his front porch, my sofa, underneath the bleachers at school. Mike asked me out on our first date the Saturday after I turned sixteen, and we had been inseparable ever since; except for the times when Dad actually had to pry us apart, like he almost did the night Mike gave me my first kiss right outside of my front door.

"Are you gonna sneak out and come over to my house after the party?" Mike asked, moving his mouth down to the little dip where my neck turned into my shoulder. He never said so, but I could tell that was his favorite spot - he'd given me a few hickeys there since we'd been together.

"Be careful," I whispered, giggling as his mouth tickled me. I felt like I was on fire, right on that spot. His lips were so warm on my skin. "My dad's gonna get mad if he sees one of those."

"I don't want to anger the Chief," he said, and it sounded like he was making a joke. I laughed and smiled and kissed his cheek before his mouth was on mine again.

I ran my fingers through his hair. It was always so soft, and he always smelled so good. I just wished we could stay like this forever.

"Come over," he said again, almost like he was begging. He was holding me so tight and so close to him that I couldn't tell if I was feeling my heartbeat or his.

"_I _don't want to anger the Chief. You remember what happened when I lied to my dad last year." I pulled away from him as I swallowed the lump that I could feel in my throat. Even now, a whole year later, thinking about it still made me feel like I wanted to cry. That was the night that had changed _everything_. "I'd be grounded forever. Dad wouldn't let us see each other anymore."

"I don't want that," he breathed, twisting a little piece of my hair around his fingers.

"I don't want that either," I said, kissing my favorite spot right underneath his ear.

"Bells?" Dad called from outside the door, and I could feel Mike's breath become faster against my cheek.

"Hide," I whispered just a little to loudly, pushing him into the corner before I turned the pantry light back on.

"Ow!" The metal racks clanged as Mike rammed against them.

"Shhh!"

"Bells?" Dad was getting closer.

"Coming, Dad!" I yelled, grabbing the first can I found off of the shelf in front of me.

"Come out in a few minutes - pretend you were in the bathroom or...or run out the back door and go around to the front," I whispered before I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

"Hey Dad!" I said, nervous, as I practically walked into his chest only feet away from the pantry.

"What were you doing in there?" Dad asked, putting his hands on the tops of my arms as he looked over my shoulder. I recognized that look on his face; he knew I'd been up to something.

"I had to get these," I said, holding the can in my hand up to his face.

"Beets?" he asked. His eyebrow quirked up real high like it did when he knew I was lying.

_Beets? Shoot. Why couldn't I have grabbed some peaches or something?_

"Yeah, uh..." I struggled to think of an excuse for why I would have beets, but tried not to take too long to think of it, because then he would know I was up to no good. "Jasper bet Emmett he could eat a whole can. We don't use 'em a whole lot, so I thought-"

"You kids are really hard up for entertainment tonight," Dad said, moving me to the side so that he could go back to the pantry.

I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest.

"Can you help me open them?" I asked quickly, praying that I could stall him just a little while longer, long enough for Mike to slip out the back door.

Dad gave me a skeptical look.

"You know how weird the can opener is," I continued, hoping he wouldn't see how panicked I was. "Half the time I can't get the thing to work right."

"Alright," he said, throwing the can up into the air and catching it in his other hand as I followed him down the hallway and back into the kitchen, my heart finally returning to its normal pace.

A few minutes later, with a bowl full of beets in my hand and my dad finally out of the kitchen, I went back to our table in the corner of the dining room. Mike was sitting in the same seat he'd been in before we snuck into the pantry, and I smiled, relieved he was able to get away without being caught by my dad.

"Eat these," I said, putting the beets down in front of Jasper before I took my seat next to Mike. He wrapped his arm around me and moved his chair closer to mine, so that our thighs were touching. He traced small patterns on my shoulder as he leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"What do I have to eat these for?" Jasper asked with a disgusted look on his face. We all laughed, because the sound of Jasper's_ s_'s sounded like a whistle.

"Because if you don't I'll tell the whole school how you busted your two front teeth," I said, pointing at his mouth, cringing just a little bit after I'd spoken for sounding so mean. I figured it was payback for everything he and Alice had put me through over the past year, considering they were still only _kinda_ boyfriend and girlfriend, even though Alice had been spending most of her time lately with Tyler Crowley.

"That's a horrible thing to say, Bella," he said, whistling as he picked up the fork next to him.

"Everyone knows you don't rollerblade during the winter, you idiot," Rose said, snuggling up under Emmett's arm. He flexed his hand out to hold her tight, the hand that had the huge scar on it from when he'd fought Royce King in downtown Port Angeles the night he saw him yelling at Rose in an alley. "What'll people think of you if they find out you broke those teeth screwing around with mom's Thighmaster? Eat up."

"Shut up, Rose." He shoveled a forkful of beets into his mouth, looking like someone had smacked him. "God, I can't wait to go to the dentist and get these fixed."

"Beets are full of beta carotene," Eric Yorkie said, patting Jasper on the shoulder as he chewed. Yorkie was always a bit of a dweeb, but he looked especially dweeb-ish tonight. There had to be a special nerd store that he shopped at, because I didn't know of a single place in Forks you could buy suspenders or pants that went up as high as his did.

"Can bay two caroteam fix my teeth?" Jasper asked with his mouth full.

"No, it cannot. _Beta carotene_ allows your body to produce Vitamin A," Yorkie said, looking like he was about to start spouting off an entry from the World Book Encyclopedia as he pulled out the chair across form me and sat down. "The beta carotene-"

"Shut the _fuck _up, Yurkel!" Emmett said, laughing. "Can't you just turn off the dork for one minute? If you want to sit here, you're gonna. Otherwise you'll have to go over there and sit with my brother."

"Edward?" I asked, feeling my breath catch in my throat. My stomach felt like it was trying to find a way out of my body. I hadn't seen him, and I didn't think that he'd come to the party tonight.

"Do I _have_ another brother, Bella?" Emmett looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Quit being an ass," Rose said, punching him in the gut. She winked at me and pointed at a table on the opposite side of the room where Edward sat, looking down, his head cradled in his hands.

When I saw that he was sitting next to Jessica, both of my hands clenched up into fists. Fists I wanted to punch her in the face with, the dirty, lying, no-good..._bitch_.

"You should go over there and talk to him," Rose whispered, leaning in close to me so that Mike couldn't hear. I wasn't quite sure why she did that. Mike knew Edward was my friend; he didn't care. Well...Edward _had_ been my friend. I wasn't so sure he was anymore.

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm not going over there while_ she's_ with him."

Rose watched me for a second, and then shook her head. "I don't even know why he's sitting with her," she said. "He hates her ass, especially after what she tried to do to you."

I had thought that Jessica was my friend, but I had to find out the hard way that she wasn't. Sometimes I wondered if she _ever _was, because someone who cared about you at one point in time would never have done the things that she'd done to me since last New Year's. She was the one who called my dad to tell on me because she wanted to get me out of the picture so that she could spend time with Mike. She hadn't been the only friend I'd lost because of what happened that night.

"Are you guys talking about Jess?" Mike asked, leaning over me so that he could be in the conversation with me and Rose.

"Mmm-hmm," Rose hummed into her glass of water. "_Lovely _girl."

I knew Mike well enough to know what he was about to do; he never missed a chance to tell an embarrassing story about her. "Did you guys know she drew a Cindy Crawford mole onto her face once?" Mike asked, rubbing his finger and thumb along his jaw. He had been doing that more and more since he started to shave. I thought maybe he liked the way the stubble felt against his skin, and I wondered if it made him feel like a man.

"It was during the summer. She came out to Port Angeles with me and some of the guys to watch a movie..."

I hated to hear about things like that, because Dad hadn't ever let me go, and I felt like I missed out on so much; especially if one of the things I'd missed out on was Jessica drawing a mole on herself and looking like an idiot. Mike must've noticed that I tensed when he brought her up, because he moved his face closer to mine and nuzzled my hair before kissing my cheek and continuing with the story.

"Anyway, I guess she'd drawn it on there with some kind of pencil. She must've rubbed her face a few times during the movie, because when we walked back to the car, she had all of these brown streaks across her face."

I laughed at that, harder than I had in a really long time. Rose was practically doubled over, and Emmett just looked at us like we were all crazy.

My eyes went across the room then, I wasn't sure why, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw Edward actually looking over at me. Not in our direction, not at my group of friends, but at_ me_. I smiled at him, but he didn't smile back; he just stared at me for a few seconds before looking back down at the table.

"Cullen's a weirdo, isn't he?" Yorkie asked, pushing the rim of his Coke-bottle glasses further up his nose. He must have seen me looking over at Edward, because he noticed everything, the nerd. "He's always observing people from corners and taking cryptic notes." Yorkie's voice sounded like someone was pinching his nose shut. "He's probably going to wind up just like that guy in _Silence of the Lambs_," he said, snorting at his own stupid joke. "The guy who wears the mask and-"

"Shut up, Yurkle," Mike said, sitting up in his chair. "You of all people shouldn't be making fun of 'weirdos.' Edward's a good guy, he's just quiet. And he could kick your ass in a heartbeat."

"I _seriously_ doubt that, Michael," Yorkie said, rolling his eyes and laughing like a moron.

"Well, I'd be willing to help him if he had any trouble." Mike cracked his knuckles and spread his hands out on the table, looking at Yorkie like he was just waiting for a fight. I hated that side of Mike and was glad I didn't have to see it too often.

"Cool it, okay?" I pleaded. I really didn't want a fight to break out here in my dad's restaurant. The last thing he needed was to have to make a claim on his insurance because of broken furniture from a teenage argument.

"You wouldn't be so quick to defend him if you'd seen the way he was with B-"

"That's enough, Yurkle," Emmett said as he stood up from his chair, planting both of his hands on the table as he leaned over really close to Yorkie. "Get out of here before I remove you myself."

"I'm going, I'm going," Yorkie said as he stood up, snapping his suspenders against his chest and laughing as he walked away.

"Don't go picking fights with kids, Em. Your hand only just healed, and you need to make sure it's not hurting for your gig next weekend." Rose sounded worried, but I knew her all too well. Even though I couldn't see her face, I knew she was giving Emmett a look that could freeze water.

"Where's Jasper?" I asked, noticing the empty beet bowl that was sitting on the table next to Emmett.

"Dunno," Emmett said, shrugging his shoulders. "He's either in the bathroom barfing from that nasty shit you made him eat or off somewhere with my sister. You know they had to start sneaking around after my mom found that handprint on the boob of Alice's Hypercolor when she walked in on them making out after school one day." Emmett laughed, and Rose did, too. He was never, ever going to let Alice live that one down.

"Wanna go over and talk to the guys?" Mike asked, pointing over at a table where some of his friends were sitting.

I thought about his crude friends and their conversations about sports and girls and arguments over which one of them could burp the entire alphabet. "No," I said, shaking my head. "You go ahead."

Mike kissed me on the cheek before he got up. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. I think I'm going to go talk to my dad for a sec, and then go outside for a bit." I felt like the air had gotten too thick since I'd noticed Edward was in the room, especially after he'd looked at me so coldly just a few minutes ago. He didn't seem like Edward at all when he did that. Not the Edward_ I_ knew.

"I'll see you in a little while then," Mike said, swishing my hair before he walked away.

Once he left, I looked over toward Edward's corner and noticed that he wasn't there anymore. That rat-faced, Cindy Crawford-wannabe ex-friend of mine Jessica Stanley was all by herself. I wanted to go over there and scream at her while I kicked her shins in. When I had gotten to the point where I thought I might not be able to stop myself from doing just that, I decided to go outside and get some fresh air. My face was hot, just like it always was whenever I was around that two-timer, and I thought maybe the chill of the winter breeze might make me feel a little better.

I made my way through the crowd, and took a deep breath once I was out on the front porch of the diner. I walked over to the railing and spread my hands out, bowing my head down until my hair touched the faded and chipped paint covering the wood. I looked up after a few minutes, out toward the parking lot, so full that the cars overflowed out onto the street.

There Edward sat, his crazy hair pressed up against the driver side window of the beat-up rusty old Volvo that used to belong to his mom. I wasn't sure what came over me, but one minute I was on the porch, and the next minute I was knocking on the passenger side window of his car.

I didn't know if Edward had seen me coming, but he didn't seem to be all that surprised that I was there. He reached over, unlocked the door, and pushed it open just the slightest bit. The hinges squeaked as I opened it all the way, and once I was in I slammed the door shut.

I rubbed my hands together once I was inside, the feeling of the cold metal door handle against my skin had made my fingers hurt. I cupped them together, put them up close to my mouth and blew, hoping that maybe my breath would warm them up. The car squeaked as Edward moved, but I was scared to look over at him, so I just followed the pattern on the trim of the car next to us with my eyes, back and forth and back again until I felt something warm fall on my lap. It was Edward's jacket.

Without saying anything, I slid my hands through the arms and pulled it close to me, wearing it backwards. The leather made me feel warm right away, and I pulled the collar up to my face and inhaled. I smelled the day we'd spent in the meadow on that collar, along with the few minutes we'd danced at the party last year.

I didn't mean to cry, I swear I didn't, but sitting there with him I felt how wrong things were all of a sudden. I wasn't talking to him, and he wasn't talking to me, and all I could think about was the fight we'd had all those months ago. I'd yelled and screamed and said hateful, awful things to him, all because I thought he'd ratted me out to my dad. By the time I found out it had been Jessica, it was too late, and I'd said too many things that I could never, ever take back.

I felt his warm hand on my face for just a second, and it was gone so fast I thought maybe I'd just imagined it.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I cried, wiping my tears with the cuffs of his sleeves. "I'm so sorry for what I did, and for what I said. I didn't mean any of it, I swear. I was just mad, you know? I thought you...I didn't know Jessica would do that, and...I know you don't want to talk to me, and I get it. I'd hate me, too. I _do_ hate myself.

"It's just...I _miss_ you, Edward. You're the only one I can ever be myself with, and I know I can tell you anything. I have all these things to say and no one to say them to, and everything's all wrong. I never just said thank you for being there for me, because you always made everything right, and now there's just this hurt...this _ache,_" I cried, patting my chest with the palm of my hand, on top of his soft leather jacket. "There's a spot in here," I said, pointing right where my heart was. "It's yours and it's empty, because you're not here and we're not friends anymore. And it _hurts_, Edward. Do you feel it? Doesn't it hurt you, too?"

I sat there in the car, and I couldn't look at him. I didn't want to see his face, because I just knew he wasn't going to tell me what I wanted to hear. He was quiet, just like I was afraid he'd be. I swiped at the tears on my face, my skin all hot and throbbing. I shrugged out of his jacket as fast as I could, because I had to get out into the night air because it was all just...too much.

I fumbled with the door knob, and once I'd finally gotten it open I swung my legs out, my shoe crunching on the gravel as I moved to get out of the car. Edward grabbed my wrist as I turned away from him, and he spoke to me for the first time in almost a year.

"I feel it, B," he said quietly, his voice a bit deeper than I remembered. "I'm hurting, too."

I could feel the piece of my heart that was missing him fill up just a little bit when he said that, and he pulled on my wrist just enough to let me know that he wanted me to sit back down in the car with him. I just wanted us to be Edward and Bella again, so I did what he wanted.

Once I sat down and shut the door, he passed me his coat again. "Please put this on. I don't want you to be cold."

"Okay," I said, sniffling as I slipped my arms back into the sleeves of the jacket.

We sat there for a few minutes in the quiet, both looking at our hands, out of the window; anywhere but at each other. I wasn't sure what to say or how to phrase it, so I went with the simplest words I could think of, even though I'd said them all before.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I know you just see me as your little sister's friend, but I-"

"Stop," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "Please don't say that. I don't think of you that way at all...I think...Hell, I don't even know, B. I'm at school and everything's different now and I don't know what I'm doing anymore..."

"That night," I said, taking the chance to finally explain myself, since he hadn't ever let me do that before. "I was so mad...the way Dad thanked you for looking out for me...you were on the phone, and you said that you had done something you wanted to tell me about, I just thought that-"

"You thought I would hurt you deliberately." He wasn't asking, he already knew that's exactly what I had thought. That was the reason we hadn't talked in forever.

"Yes," I breathed, talking more to my hands than I was to him, because I was too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

"See, that's the thing Bella..." he paused, holding his chin up with his fingers as he looked out of the window. "I don't understand how you could ever think that about me. All I've done since I've known you is whatever I could to make sure you never got hurt at all. I've tried to make you happy, to be your friend. And for the past year all I've tried to do is just stay away from you, because-"

"I hurt _you_," I said, finally understanding where he was coming from. Not just from the horrible, awful words I'd shouted at him, but because I thought he'd ever done anything to deserve them in the first place.

"Yeah," he said, finally looking over at me. "I'm afraid that you're going to hurt me again, and I don't know if I can..." He stopped talking, and I could tell that he decided not to say what he was going to say. "You're more than just Alice's friend, B...I hope you don't think I let you hang around because of her. You're so much more than that. I-"

"_Oh my God!_" My heart about leapt into my throat when someone started knocking on my window. I put my hand on my chest, as if that would somehow bring it back down to where it was supposed to be.

I reached over to the knob to roll the window down. It got stuck a little bit past halfway.

"Mike?" I asked as he stuck his head into the window.

"I was looking for you," he said, looking over at Edward.

"Hey, man," Mike said, nodding in Edward's direction.

"Hey," Edward replied.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked, smiling. "You guys finally making up?"

"Yep," I replied. "We're good. Well, we're getting there, I guess..." I wanted to look over at Edward, but I didn't.

"I'll leave you to it then," he said, kissing me softly on the lips and then looking over at Edward before he ducked his head back outside. "Come back in soon, 'kay?"

I felt my cheeks get hot and felt kind of weird as I rolled my window up.

"He's a good guy," Edward said, sounding just a little bit disappointed. I wasn't quite sure why he sounded like that.

"He _is_ a good guy." I sat up a little straighter when he said that, feeling really proud of my boyfriend for some strange reason.

"Are you happy?" Edward asked, straightening out a wrinkle on the thigh of his jeans.

"Now that _we're_ talking, yeah."

"No. Well, no, what I mean is...that's good, but...I wanted to know if you're, you know, happy with _him_?" Edward kept working on that spot on his jeans, even though the wrinkle was long gone.

"Happy as his girlfriend?" I asked, confused.

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's good to you and treats you well?" Edward asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"He's great. He makes me happy." Mike wasn't perfect, but he seemed to just fit me...most of the time. It was hard to explain, and I really hoped that Edward didn't ask me to.

Edward was quiet for a little while as he ran his hands up and down along the sides of his steering wheel. "Good," he said quietly. "I just want you to be happy. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"I want you to be happy, too," I said, because it just felt right, and I really, really did want Edward to be happy. He always seemed so alone. Dad said that was because he was a moody musician, but I couldn't understand why someone who wanted to share their music with everyone so badly would ever _want_ to be alone.

Edward didn't say anything, he just smiled a half smile, but his eyes stayed sad.

"I should probably go back inside," I said, taking his jacket back off.

"Good idea." My hand brushed his as I gave him back his jacket. "B?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know...I was going to tell you that Em, Jazz and I entered into the music festival that night. I wanted you to be the first one to know," he said.

My heart dropped. They'd come in second place at the festival in April. I'd gone to watch, but I never told Edward I that I had seen them play.

"I'm really sorry that I didn't take the time to listen to what you had to say that night. I feel special that you wanted to tell me first," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He mumbled something that I couldn't hear as I started to open the door.

"Are you coming?"

"I still need to sing you your song, don't I?" His face beamed.

_There. There was the smile I'd been waiting for._

I smiled back, because that's all I could do when he looked at me like that.

"You still want to do that?"

"Of course I do," he said, turning toward me in his seat. "It's our thing, remember?"

_Our_ thing. "I remember."

"I'm picking the song tonight though," he said, laughing. "No Bon Jovi or Richard Marx."

"Damn." I snapped my fingers like I was disappointed, but I wasn't disappointed at all. When I was out of the car I leaned in one last time before I shut the door. "I'll see you inside?"

"Yep. I just need a few minutes."

I nodded, then I ran across the gravel and back into the diner. It was so warm in there that I felt like I'd stepped right into an oven.

"Everything okay?" Mike asked. He was waiting right by the door, and I wondered if he had been watching me and Edward that whole time.

"Yes," I said, as I wrapped my arm around his waist and squeezed. I turned my head and reached up to kiss him. "Everything is great."

"I'm glad you two made up," Mike said, and he sounded like he really meant it.

"Me, too."

A few minutes later, Edward walked by as me and Mike stood talking to my dad. He had his guitar slung across his shoulder and he stopped a few feet away from us on his way past.

"Is it okay if I take over your stage for a minute, Chief?" Edward asked, his face polite and friendly.

"Sure, son," Dad said, smiling, motioning toward the stage on the other end of the diner with his beer bottle. "It's all yours."

The three of us walked closer so we could get a better view and stopped right in the doorway, where Dad and I had stood the first time Edward ever sang to me; the beginning of our tradition.

"That kid's going to be famous some day," Dad said, to no one in particular.

I didn't say anything, but I let myself think about that for the first time, and I thought maybe, just maybe my dad was right.

Dad put two fingers in his mouth and blew out a high pitched whistle, and everyone in the place shut up as Edward scooted closer to the microphone and strummed a few chords on his guitar.

He started playing the beginning of a song I'd never heard before, and even though none of the kids seemed to recognize it, all the grown ups did. They started to clap before he even started singing.

"_When you're down and troubled, and you need a helping hand_..."

I leaned against Mike's chest as Edward sang, and as I listened to the words, I knew he had picked that song out special for me. He used someone else's words to say it, but once the song was over, I knew that things were better between us. We weren't the same as we had been, and maybe we never would be again. But we were talking, and that was something.

That night, when the clock struck midnight, Mike gave me my first real New Year's kiss. And by the end of the evening I had my best friend back, too.

If the first few minutes were any indication, this was going to be a pretty good year.


	5. 1993

*****1993*****

"Bells!" Dad yelled, and I could hear the door slam behind him as he ran up the stairs, his feet pounding on each one of them like thunder.

I sat on the end of my bed in the dark; my chest feeling like an elephant was sitting on it. I wasn't sure why I couldn't breathe; it wasn't like I'd run that far. The house was only a block away from the diner. I guessed maybe that was how I was supposed to feel; it was only fitting that my body would be breaking when my heart was breaking, too. If I were being totally honest, it had been breaking bit by bit, and this crack was the one that linked all of the other ones together.

I looked down at my lap, covered in the moonlight streaming through my window. The denim of my jeans was dotted with small, round, wet circles from the tears that dripped off of my chin. I closed my eyes, and I could still see Jessica getting out of Mike's car in front of the diner just a few minutes ago. The way she touched his chest and face...I still couldn't believe Mike would do that with _her _of all people.

Sure, we'd been fighting a lot lately. I knew I loved him, but sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like maybe we didn't fit together quite right; like we were two pieces of a puzzle, and my edges were just a little bit too round to fit with his. But I liked my edges; I didn't want to change them. I wanted to keep them just the way they were.

"Bells," Dad said again, softer, almost like he was whispering.

The old wooden floor creaked as he walked across it slowly, his hand reaching out to me like I was some kind of wild animal he thought might hurt him if he got too close.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked as he pulled my rocking chair out from the corner of the room and scooted it so close to me that when he sat down his knees almost touched mine. He leaned back and turned on the lamp that sat on the table next to the chair, and I squinted at the brightness. "Tell me what happened," he pleaded, leaning forward like he wanted to touch me, to make it better, but he didn't know if that was the right thing to do.

"I'm okay," I sniffled. I rubbed the tops of my thighs with my palms, letting the denim numb my hands as I pressed them harder and harder against my legs. Maybe if I made my tears disappear into the fabric, I could make my hurt disappear, too.

"What did that boy do to you?" Dad asked angrily, his fingers clenching up into fists on his lap.

"Nothing," I lied.

"I'll kick his ass if he hurt you, Bells. So help me God I will." Dad's face was all scrunched up, and that angry vein was popping out of his forehead. I hadn't seen that in a while.

"I..." I wasn't sure what to tell him. I hadn't technically seen Mike doing anything wrong at all. But he had Jessica in his car, and she'd been touching him the same way I did, and that was about all I thought I could handle knowing at the moment. "It's okay, Dad. Really."

He sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair as he sank back into the chair. I loved Dad for being worried about me, but I didn't want him to sit there and watch me lose it. Especially when I knew that he'd have no idea how to make it better, aside from going and taking it out on Mike. Taking it out on Mike didn't seem like such a bad idea, honestly, but I just needed time to think and calm down. I knew I would feel better, _much_ better, if I were alone.

"You should get back to the diner," I said quietly, and reached next to me and picked up the afghan that my mom had knitted for me when I was a baby. The pink and yellow squares were the one thing I could look at that made me remember her right away; that blanket was in most of my baby pictures. If I tried _really_ hard, I could still smell her when I curled up with it at night. I loved my dad so much, but this was one of the times I wished my mom were still alive. I just wanted to lay my head on her lap and let her run her fingers through my hair while I cried, like I'd seen Mrs. Cullen do for Alice so many times. I didn't want someone to fix it; I just wanted someone to _be_ there. But Dad...he was always a fixer.

He looked at me for a long time as I held that blanket, his eyes lingering on my face before shifting down to the pink yarn in my hands and back again. I could tell he was thinking, and I wondered if maybe he was wishing Mom were here, too.

"Mmm-hmm," he said, after what seemed like forever. "I guess you're right." The rocking chair creaked as Dad got up and pushed it back into the corner. "You let me know if you need anything, okay? And tell that boy that he better steer clear of my diner."

"Okay," I said, and I couldn't help but grin at him then. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" he replied, turning back to me as he reached the doorway.

"The Cullens are having a thing at their house tonight, and I was wondering if I-"

"Be home by one thirty, and be careful driving back," he said, winking at me before he turned to walk down the hallway.

I stood up and ran to him before he got too far. "Oh, and Dad?"

He turned around to look at me, and he seemed surprised that I was so close to him. I wrapped my arms around his middle and squeezed him tight, his soft flannel shirt warm against my skin. I didn't hug him as much as I used to, and sometimes it seemed like he really needed me to.

"I love you," I said, my voice muffled by his shirt.

He laughed; I could feel it against my cheek. He pushed my hair away from my face and leaned down and kissed my forehead, his mustache scratching my skin.

"I love you too, Bells," he said, smiling. "Now leave your old man be and go have some fun with your friends – forget about that boy for a while."

I let myself calm down for a few minutes, and then put a cold washcloth under my eyes to try to take the red away. I told myself that I would deal with Mike in the morning. I knew Edward would take my mind off of Mike for the few hours I was with him.

About thirty minutes later, I pulled up in front of the Cullen house, where cars were lined up and down the narrow road that made up their driveway. From the looks of it, everyone had left the diner and come right over here. When Edward had told me they were having a get together, I thought it would be something much, much smaller, but that's the kind of thing that happened when word got around Forks that you were having a party. Everyone in town showed up.

My stomach fluttered as I looked around for Mike's car. I'd checked the parking lot of the diner before I left, but he was gone. He hadn't even come looking for me, and I wondered if maybe he knew that I'd seen him with Jessica, that buck-toothed, boyfriend-stealing skank. I hoped she knew better than to show her face at the Cullen house. If she did, I'd have to sic Emmett on her. No…better yet, _Rosalie_.

I could hear the faintest bit of music through the door, but it wasn't anything too loud. I wondered if the party hadn't gotten into full swing yet, or if maybe the kids of Forks High had decided to behave themselves for once. That would've been a late Christmas miracle.

When I opened the front door, there was some commotion in the sitting room to the right, and when I looked over I saw that Tyler Crowley and some of Mike's jock friends were standing on the coffee table with a bunch of girls crowded around them.

I wasn't sure about the rest of them, but Tyler was obviously drunk. Lauren Mallory was over there yammering on at the top of her lungs, hoping to catch his attention. When Tyler lifted the bottom hem of his sweater up and exposed a bit of skin, she screeched so loudly that I was pretty sure her voice went up to an octave that only dogs could hear.

"_I'm too sexy for this sweater, too sexy for this sweater!_" Tyler yelled, slurring like a moron as he pulled off his shirt and threw it across the room, where it landed right on Eric Yorkie's head. Lauren looked so excited to see him without a shirt on that I thought her head might actually explode.

"Nice catch, Yurkel!" Tyler shouted, stumbling a bit as he pulled Lauren up onto the table with him.

"_Everybody out! Now_!" Alice yelled from the top of the staircase, looking angrier than I'd ever seen her. She had something in her hand that I couldn't make out, but whatever it was, the kids that had been upstairs knew she meant business because they came running down the stairs like they were on fire.

I quickly stepped back to get out of the way, and right into something-

"Ow!"

I turned around and there was Edward, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. I'd run into him and backed him right into the edge of one of Mrs. Cullen's huge picture frames, which held a painting of a field of poppies.

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching my hand up and placing it on top of his, helping him rub the spot I'd hurt.

"I'm good now," he said, smiling. We were standing so close now that I could smell the liquor on his breath. He didn't seem drunk, just…happy.

I reached up and locked my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I'd just seen him over Thanksgiving, but it seemed like it had been so much longer than that. "I missed you," I said, ignoring Alice's crazed banshee wailing in the background as she kicked everyone out of the house.

"I missed you too," he breathed, right onto my neck, giving my waist a squeeze before I let him go.

"What's this?" he asked, touching the swollen skin below my eyes. They still felt like sandpaper, and I had been hoping that enough time had passed that no one would be able to notice it. Of course Edward did. He noticed_ everything_.

"It's nothing," I lied, patting his wrist.

"'Nothing' doesn't make you cry," he said, tracing the hollow beneath my left eye so lightly that my eyelids fluttered. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I debated. I really didn't want to talk about it, but I knew that Edward would keep pressing me until I gave him a little bit of info, so that's what I did. "I saw Jessica get out of Mike's car tonight when he came to the party at the diner," I admitted.

"Just getting out of the car?" Edward asked cautiously.

"They walked around the front, and…he said something to her. She put her hand on his chest and then touched his face," I told him, surprising myself with my ability to talk about it calmly. "I...I didn't see the rest."

"What was his excuse?" Edward's face looked calm, but his eyes…his eyes were most definitely not calm.

"I told him I'd talk to him about it tomorrow…I didn't want him to ruin my night. I needed some time to calm down."

"Do you two fight a lot?" I could feel his fingertips tracing the sides of my wrists.

"Lately," I admitted. It felt good to finally acknowledge it out loud.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and suddenly I noticed that our voices were the only two left in the room.

"Thank you," I replied, because that was really all I could say.

"Get your asses in here!" Emmett yelled from the family room down the hall.

"C'mon," Edward said, crooking his finger toward me as he turned and led me down the hall.

"Hey, Bella!" Emmett bellowed, patting the space on the couch next to him. Rose was curled up like a cat on his other side, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm was wrapped around her, and he was playing with a strand of her hair between his fingers. She had a serene look on her face, her eyes half closed.

"What's up, guys?" I asked as Edward sat down on the coffee table across from me. He reached over and picked up his guitar, and started strumming a few chords that matched the ones Jasper was playing. Jasper was sitting on the opposite side of the table facing the other couch, which was probably where Alice would sit when she got back from wherever she was.

"Well-", Edward began.

"Thanks for helping me clear the place out," Alice said as she walked into the room, plopping herself down across from Jasper. He leaned over and kissed her, and she smiled. Everyone seemed really happy tonight, and I wondered what was going on.

"You seemed to be able to take care of it pretty well," Edward said, smirking.

"Thank God I did, you jackasses," Alice teased. "Crowley was about to teach the entire student body of Forks High how to do the Achy Breaky on top of Mom's coffee table. You know how expensive that thing was-"

"Soon we'll be able to buy her a new one," Emmett said, smiling at Edward.

Edward kept looking down at his guitar, but even then I could still see the grin on his face.

"You gonna sing to Bella tonight?" Jasper asked, peering over his shoulder at Edward.

"Always," Edward replied quietly, and I felt a shiver all the way to my fingertips when he said it like that.

"I know what song you can sing to her," Jasper said, playing a few notes that sounded kind of familiar to me, and then Edward joined in.

"_All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I'm standing here outside your door. I hate to wake you up to say goodbye_..." The two of them laughed as they sang.

"Seriously, what's going on?" I asked, feeling like there was some big secret that no one had let me in on yet.

Edward put his guitar down on the floor next to him and scooted forward a little bit closer to me, reaching out to take my hands.

"Remember all of those shows we've been playing since the summer?" he asked, rubbing his thumbs in small circles over my palms.

I nodded. Mike and I had gone to a couple of the ones we could get in to. It was interesting seeing Edward play in front of a crowd. He seemed so different than he did when he was singing at the diner, almost like he wasn't himself at all; so confident and composed, and just…un-Edward like. Watching him sing like that made me feel like I knew hardly anything about him, even though I knew almost everything there was to know. "Yeah..."

"Well, the engineer who worked on our demo sent it out to a few of his industry contacts," he explained, looking over at Emmett who was pouring a bunch of shots into the shot glasses lined up on the table next to Edward.

"Okay," I said, feeling butterflies in my stomach, even though I wasn't sure why.

"A record company sent someone out to see us, and we got signed," Edward said, squeezing my hands. "We got signed."

"You...got signed," I repeated, testing the words out to hear how they sounded. I grinned when I heard them. "You got signed?"

I let go of Edward and leaned over to hug Emmett, who was practically bouncing out of his seat. I got up and hugged Jasper, congratulating both of them, and Alice and Rose, too, for whatever reason.

Edward watched me as I hugged everyone, and I was sure I'd never seen him smile so big. I ran over and leapt into his arms, squeezing him so tight. I didn't even know what to say to him, because I knew how badly he'd wanted this. What were you supposed to say to someone when all of their dreams came true? Congratulations didn't seem like nearly enough.

"I'm so proud of you," I whispered into his ear, so that he was the only one who could hear it. "So proud." I was so happy I thought I might cry.

"We leave for New York on Sunday," Emmett said, looking over at Rose, who had a huge, ruby red smile painted across her porcelain face.

"New York?" I asked, turning around and freeing myself from Edward's grasp. He was leaving? "Sunday? That's two days from now!"

"Yep," Alice said, getting up out of her seat to take her place next to Jasper. "It's going to be just like _The Real World_. Except they aren't strangers, and there's not seven of them. And I don't think they'll be living in a loft..."

"You should quit while you're ahead, baby." Jasper laughed and kissed Alice's nose.

"You're going to _live_ there?" I asked.

"Goodbye, Bumblefuck, Washington," Emmett said, reaching over to give Jasper a high-five. "I won't cry when I leave this place behind." He reached over and picked up a shot glass, downing it in one long, deep gulp. He poured himself another, and then passed a shot around to each one of us.

"To good luck," Jasper said, hoisting his glass up in the air.

"And good friends," Edward added, smiling at me.

We clinked our glasses together, and everyone drank. Except for me...I wasn't feeling so well all of a sudden. I held my glass out and Edward took it, downing my shot for me as I sat back, stunned.

Edward, my best friend, just got the one thing he'd wanted in the whole world - the thing he'd worked the hardest for and had dreamed about nearly every day for the past few years. I wanted to run to town to tell everyone how amazing he was, and how beautiful he sang, and what a good friend he'd always been to me. But that amazing friend with the beautiful voice was going to leave me, and I knew that things would never be the same.

"I'll be right back," I said as I got up to leave the room. I could hardly feel my feet as I walked across Mrs. Cullen's prized Persian rug, and I watched as my black shoes covered up the patterns until the rug turned into hardwood and then the hardwood turned to tile.

In the kitchen, away from the voices and the laughter and the happiness, I started to cry. I wasn't even sure why, but I _was_ sure that it made me one of the most selfish people in the world. I walked over to the cupboard to get a glass and then filled it up with water as I let the hot tears flow freely down my cheeks.

As I leaned up against the counter and sipped the water slowly, I noticed the photo stuck to the side of the refrigerator next to me. I put my glass down on the counter, and pulled on the magnet, releasing the photo. It was taken four years ago, before Mom had died. She and Edward were sitting on a bench in Edward's back yard, Mom's arm wrapped around him, and Edward's guitar was lying across their laps. I sat on the grass in front of them, listening like I always did. We were all smiling at the camera, looking so happy. As I traced the edge of the picture with my finger, one of my tears fell, right on Edward's face.

"I was wondering where you went," Edward said, startling me. He was standing so close to me, and I hadn't even heard him come in.

He bent over to pick up the picture I hadn't realized had fallen, and he smiled that sort of half-sad smile that made me want to hug him until it went away. "She's the reason this happened, you know." He wiped my tear off of the picture and moved his thumb across my mother's face, and my heart felt so full then. "I thought you would be happy for me," he said quietly.

"I _am_ happy for you," I whispered, smiling through my tears. "So happy, Edward. You don't know how much."

"Then why," he began, reaching up and swiping his thumb gently across my wet cheek. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm just...I'm overwhelmed. I thought you guys were just having a small get together thing, and then you tell me that you're leaving…it's just that it was the last thing I expected to hear," I said.

"It's a _good_ thing," he said, smiling as he brought his other hand up to my neck and moved his fingers slowly up to knit through my hair.

"The _greatest_ thing. It's the best thing I could've ever wished for you, Edward, and I'm so excited that your dreams are coming true," I told him, more tears falling from my eyes as I spoke.

"You're excited_ and_ you're crying." He shook his head, smiling.

"Well…" I began, not really sure what I was supposed to say.

He moved his hands so that I could feel each of his thumbs right by my ears as he brought his face closer to mine. The only sound I could hear was my breathing as he leaned over and gently kissed the spots where my tears were falling, first on my right cheek, and then on my left.

I brought my hands up to grip his arms, because I felt like my world was spinning and I just needed something to hold on to, and I wanted it to be him.

"I'm going to miss you," I whispered, and I knew he heard it, because his forehead was resting against mine, and I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"Say that again," he asked, but he was telling me more than anything. "Please…say it again."

"I'm going to miss you," I whispered. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"God, I..." He stopped himself before he said anything else, and I could feel him shifting his feet just a little bit, like he was fighting with his body to stay where he was. "I'll come back, B. I promise you that I'll come back." His thumbs moved up and down my cheeks, soothing, comforting. "I shouldn't..."

I felt every word he said on my skin, his lips so close to me that even though they weren't quite touching me when he talked, I could feel them moving anyway. He stood there, battling with himself, and I wasn't sure what he was fighting, but his mouth was _right there,_ and all I could think about was what it would feel like to kiss him.

I moved my face toward his just the tiniest bit, and I felt his top lip on mine, and his breath mixing with mine, and it was wrong and it was right and my heart and my brain were all jumbled up, and he was _so close_, and I thought maybe he wanted it too, but he'd been drinking and it seemed like he was getting ready to run away, and I wasn't sure of anything anymore. But I made up my mind to move forward the two centimeters it would take to taste him, because I had never felt anything like this before, and I just had to know-

"I can't do this, it isn't right," he said, moving his hands from my neck and down to my shoulders, pushing me away from him gently, but still holding onto me there. "It isn't right," he repeated, not looking me in the eye as his hands rubbed up and down my arms.

"Edward," I said, confused, as my fingertips slid down his arms as he backed away from me. "Wait. Just wait a second." I needed some time to process what had just happened.

But he didn't wait. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the countertop and walked away from me, stopping only once at the door. "I'm sorry," he said, that same sad smile on his face that he had when he'd first walked into the kitchen.

"Don't be sorry." My face was hot and my head was spinning, but I didn't want him to be sorry about it, I wanted him to come back and do it again, even though I knew that it was all wrong.

"I should never have done that. I care about you too much to put you in that position," he said as he pushed the door open, and just like that he was gone.

"Care about me too much to what?" To want to kiss me? That didn't make any sense. "Edward?" I called after him, but he never came back.

I turned and leaned against the counter, so confused. I hadn't ever thought of Edward like _that _before. I'd wanted to kiss him so badly...was it because I really wanted to kiss him, or because I was sad that he was leaving? Did I think it would make him stay? Was it because he'd made me feel so different from Mike?

_Mike. _I loved him, I really did. But our edges didn't fit together, and I wanted to kiss another guy when I should've only wanted to kiss _him. _I had just been mad at him because I'd seen Jessica touching him, and I'd just done something way, _way_ worse. How was it possible that everything had changed so much in just one hour?

I wasn't sure how I was going to fix things, or what I was going to do about Mike. All I knew was that I had to find Edward, because I needed to talk to him and sort this whole thing out. I ran out to the living room, where there was no sign of Edward. Just Alice and Jasper, Rose and Emmett curled up on the couches talking. He wasn't in the dining room or in any of the bathrooms.

I pounded up the stairs as I called his name, but he never answered. He wasn't in his room, in Alice's room, or in Emmett's. He was gone. I walked back toward his bedroom, and once I was inside, I sat on the edge of his bed.

He already had his suitcases packed and stacked up in front of his closet. The top one was open, and sitting there on a stack of t-shirts were a few brand new notebooks, and a picture in a dark wooden frame. I stood up and moved closer so I could see the picture, and my breath caught in my throat when I looked at it. It was similar to the one we'd both been looking at in the kitchen, but my mom wasn't in this picture. In it, Edward was sitting on the bench by himself, still holding the guitar. I was sitting on the grass in front of him with my legs folded underneath me. We were both smiling at each other, and it looked like we had been laughing.

I'd been in Edward's room countless times, and I'd never seen that picture before.

All of a sudden, I thought of one place he could be that I hadn't looked. I pounded down the stairs and opened the front door, but the porch swing was empty, the old chains squeaking as it blew slowly back and forth in the breeze that seeped in through the half-opened windows. Disappointed, I turned to go back in the house, when-

"Bella."

I knew that voice. It wasn't really the one I wanted to hear, but I'd have to talk to him at some point and I supposed that now was as good a time as any. I walked over and opened the porch door, quickly stepping down the stairs as the door slammed behind me.

"What do you want?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

Mike knew me all too well. Sliding his arms out of his letter jacket, he walked towards me and held it out at an arm's length for me to take. "Here," he said. "Put this on."

I stared at it a moment before I took it reluctantly, and once I'd put it on, all I could smell was Mike. The way he smelled when he gave me my first kiss on my front porch. The way he smelled when he danced with me for the first time at prom. The way he smelled that night in his bedroom when his parents were away…

"Do I get a chance to explain?" He moved a step closer to me, cautiously.

I knew I needed to let him tell me what happened. He'd seen me with Edward so many times – he'd never said anything about the way Edward hugged me or held my hand. Until tonight I'd thought those were friendly gestures, but I wasn't so sure anymore. He'd wanted to kiss me, but he'd been drinking, and then he told me it was wrong and he shouldn't have done it. I didn't know what to think about any of it, but I could see now that I needed to give Mike the benefit of the doubt, just like he'd always given it to me.

"She had a flat tire, Bella. I drove past her on my way to the diner and offered to give her a ride because she didn't have a spare."

That sounded innocent enough, and I watched him as he told his story. He always ran his right index finger along his jaw when he was lying, but his hands stayed right at his sides as he spoke.

"I saw her touching you."

"You know how she is," he said, reaching out to put his hand on my shoulder. "She got touchy-feely, and I told her to back off. I wouldn't have felt right just leaving her there, Bella. I don't think you would fall in love with someone who would just leave a girl on the side of the road."

He was right; I couldn't have fallen in love with someone who would do that.

"I would never hurt you," he said, bringing his hand up to my face, and it was warm and familiar. "Not on purpose, not if I could help it." His fingers slid down my neck to my chest, where the locket he'd given me still hung.

"I know that," I said softly as he leaned down to kiss me. I let him, as if his lips held the answers to all of my questions; as if his arms around me could help my confused heart make sense of everything that had happened. I clung to him then, the cute blonde-haired boy who had been my first _everything_, and my heart broke just a little bit; because I didn't want to hurt him either, but I knew no matter what that I would.

"Our edges don't fit," I whispered, because it wasn't just this one thing, this one misunderstanding. There had been so many others, and the longer we stayed together the more there would be. But I loved him still. That was the one thing I was sure of in this whole mess.

"What?" he asked quietly, sounding just as confused as I felt.

I brought my lips up to his and I kissed him; softly, sweetly, like it was our very first time all over again. I wrapped my arms around him so tightly, because I wasn't ready for what we had to be over just yet. "We've been fighting so much-"

"We can work things out," he said, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince me. "Don't you at least want to try?"

"Mike, I don't know-" I began, but he silenced my mouth with his, because he wasn't ready for us to be over yet, either.

Mike broke our kiss when the front door slammed, and I couldn't make out the two shadows in the darkness as they walked towards us quickly.

"Bella, don't go yet, I haven't had a chance to sing your-" Edward slurred as he came closer, but he stopped when he was just a few feet away.

"Edward, stop!" Emmett bellowed, reaching out to grab Edward's elbow and pull him back into the house. "You've had too much to drink, bro…you shouldn't-"

A horrible gagging noise interrupted Emmett, and I had just enough time to move out of the way before Edward barfed what looked like Mr. and Mrs. Cullen's entire liquor cabinet all over Mike's pants and shirt.

Mike stood there looking completely disgusted, his arms hanging down at his side and away from his body, as if he was afraid to move. "This is fucking _gross_, Cullen," Mike groaned, looking way pissed off.

I looked at the two of them, Mike and Edward, not sure which one I should help first. Edward was doubled over on the ground, and Mike looked like he was about to get sick himself.

"Em, can Mike use your shower?"

"Sure," he said, motioning for Mike to follow him. "I've got some clothes you can borrow, too, dude. My brother yakked on you – it's the least I can do."

"Thanks," Mike said as they walked toward the house. He turned around to look at me, but he didn't say anything.

"I'll be right back down to help you take care of that," Emmett said, pointing at his brother.

"Yeah, thanks," I replied.

"What a way to start a new year, huh?" Emmett asked with a sweet smile before he and Mike went in the house.

"I'm gonna be sick again," Edward groaned.

I knelt down beside him and rubbed his back as he coughed.

"I'm sorry, B," he said, his voice all scratchy. My heart broke for him then - he didn't sound like himself at all. "Leave me here. You should go check on Mike."

I probably _should have_ gone to check on Mike. I _definitely_ needed to tell him what happened between Edward and me, and I would. But for that moment, I stayed there with Edward instead, rubbing his shoulders and neck as he heaved into the bushes beside us.

I didn't know what I was going to do about either one of them; the safe, small-town boy I had fallen in love with, and my best friend who I wanted to kiss me, even though he was leaving me to go off and follow his dreams. But I was positive about one thing: I had made one hell of a huge mess, and I was the only one who could clean it all up.


	6. 1994

*****1994*****

"Your hair is so pretty Bella, but I wish you'd let me do something to make it a little less wild," Victoria said, her long, fake acrylic nails scratching my scalp as she ran her fingers through the waves that fell from the clip that held them away from my face. "Boys would go crazy over a more defined curl."

"It's not _wild_," I snapped, bunching it up and tossing it over the shoulder that was farthest away from her, hoping she'd take the hint to leave me alone. "Besides, I like it the way it is." It was easy to pull back into a ponytail so I only had to get up fifteen minutes before my eight o'clock class started, but I didn't tell her that. Victoria would die if she knew I ventured out into public without makeup on.

If she had her way, she'd give me a spiral perm until my hair was as bigger than Texas. That's the way she wore hers, all huge and puffed up. I'd made the mistake of getting it caught under my arm when I'd given her a hug one day, and I could feel it crunch under my skin. No, I didn't want Victoria coming anywhere _near_ my hair. She'd have me living under a cloud of Aqua Net in no time.

"Suit yourself, sweetie," she said, tapping my knee with her hand, making all the bracelets on her wrist clang together. Dad and Victoria had been dating ever since she opened up her hair salon in the little strip mall across from the diner. Dad walked into her shop one day to give her a flyer listing our lunch specials, and came out with a new hairstyle and a ready-made family.

Victoria stood up from the seat next to me and walked behind the bar to my dad, kissing him quickly on the lips before disappearing into the kitchen. Dad followed shortly after, slinging one of his custom-made hand towels over his left shoulder. Victoria had recently come off of a crafty kick, during which she'd made Dad plaid towels that matched each of the flannel shirts he liked to wear so much. I wasn't exactly sure where one went to buy plaid terrycloth, and I didn't really want to know. I thought they looked pretty stupid, but Dad loved them, and that was what mattered.

"Her hair is looking especially large today," Mike said, sidling up beside me in the chair that Victoria had just vacated. He bumped my shoulder with his, and gave me that warm smile I'd fallen in love with. It still made my skin tingle, even though I no longer felt about him the way I used to.

"Hey," I replied, smiling back at him. I couldn't help but smile when I was around Mike, and I'd missed him so much. Whenever I was around him, I wondered what would've happened if last New Year's Eve had gone differently. I supposed it was pointless to think about such a thing, but sometimes, when I was lonely, I did it anyway.

"How's U-Dub treating you?" he asked, swiping at a ring of condensation on the counter with a cocktail napkin.

"Eh, good grades, no time," I replied. "How's SDSU treating _you_?"

Mike laughed. "Sun, sand, not-so-good grades, lots of time."

"Some things never-"

I paused as I felt a cold hand run down my left arm, snagging on my watchband. The hand kept pulling, and my wrist stung as the band gave way, no match for the fifty pound, six-year-old spawn of Satan who had latched onto it.

I stared as my watch hit the floor in what seemed like slow motion, and before I could bend down to pick it up, James's grubby little hands had snatched it; one of the few things I owned that could never be replaced.

My legs were long enough that I caught up with him quickly, but he was so short he easily dodged out from under my grasp.

"You can't catch me, Bella, so just give up!" James stood on the other side of the bar; his evil, beady little eyes barely clearing the top.

"Give that back to me you little shit, before I get your mom," I threatened, trying to keep my voice low so Mr. Banner wouldn't hear me and scold me for my use of language. James and I both knew he didn't want his mom involved in this; once Victoria went off on a tangent, she didn't shut up for hours. James rolled his eyes, testing me to see if I would follow through with my threat.

I gripped both sides of the mahogany counter, drumming my fingertips across the wood while waiting for James to make his move. I had him cornered, and I couldn't let him get away now. I could see his hands twitching, and I knew he was about to make a run for it.

The corner of my mouth curled up in anticipation of my impending victory as I saw Mike slowly creeping up behind him; the little twerp was blissfully unaware that he was about to be taken down. James let out a high-pitched girly squeal as Mike lifted him up by the waist, restraining him long enough for me to snatch the watch out of his claws.

I leaned in, pinching James's cheeks together with my index finger and my thumb, turning his little mouth into a fish face. I was so angry; I almost had trouble controlling my voice. "Do something like that again, and I'll make your life a living hell, you got me?"

James nodded his head quickly, his messy blonde hair falling in huge clumps over his eyes. He looked like he might be getting ready to cry. _Good_.

I let go of his mouth so he could speak, issuing one more warning before I had Mike let him loose into the wild to unleash destruction upon the other unsuspecting guests. "I'll tell every one of your little friends that you cried during _Free Willy,_" I warned, poking my finger into his chest for emphasis.

James rolled his eyes and let his head fall back on Mike's chest, letting out a deep breath of frustration. I knew he was sorry he'd ever asked me to take him to see that movie.

"Let him go," I told Mike, watching as James squirmed out of his grasp and took off into the dining room.

"Thanks," I murmured, my face still flushed with anger. I closed my eyes as I slowly unclenched my fingers from my palm, scared of what I would find there when I opened them. My breath caught in my throat as I surveyed the damage; one of the delicate filigree links that made up the watch band was bent in one section, completely broken off from the rest. The glass covering the face had a long, jagged crack across it.

"Your mom's watch," Mike breathed, as if he were just as sad to see it in its current state as I was. "Bella…"

I was stunned as I looked at the wreckage in my palm, and then Mike put his hand on my cheek, and I nuzzled into it; warm, familiar, and friendly.

"I think Mr. Berty can fix it," he said, his finger tracing the broken remnants of the watch my father had given my mom on their first anniversary. "Do you want me to see if I can find him?"

"No, that's okay. I'll take it to him before I go back to school." I reached up and laced my fingers with his, pulling his hand from my face. He smiled, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb before bringing it up to his lips and placing a soft kiss there. It didn't feel like it used to, and I could tell from the look on Mike's face as he held my hand that it didn't feel the same to him, either. I wasn't sure why, but I was relieved.

"Thanks, Mike." I gave his hand a squeeze before letting it go.

"No problem," he said, looking over my shoulder. "Here she comes…"

"Bella, is everything okay?" Victoria asked, worry etched across her face. I couldn't look her directly in the eyes, so I watched the way her mascara made her lashes look like spindly spider legs across her purple eye shadow before letting my gaze fall down to my palm and my mother's broken watch.

"Oh, sweetie," she said, pulling me to her, and for once I let her hug me, not thinking about how she smelled like the perfume counter at Thriftway had upchucked all over her. "I'll punish him."

I wanted to tell her that she should probably keep a tighter watch on her kid, because this wasn't the first time he'd torn a warpath through the diner, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But I didn't say anything; I just let her hold me while she ran her acrylic claws through my hair.

I pulled away from her, and gave her the best smile I could manage. "I think I should go put this away," I said.

"Good idea." She swiped her thumbs under my eyes, wiping away tears that had never come.

I ran out the back door of the diner and across the small park that separated it from our house, my shoes sloshing noisily in the wet grass. I bounded up the stairs two at a time until I made it to my bedroom. I walked over to my dresser and pulled out my underwear drawer where, in the back, sat a small box full of everything that meant anything to me. I pushed aside the old movie stubs, the concert admissions, and the guitar picks until I found the small black velvet pouch where I kept my most special things. I placed the broken pieces of my mom's watch in the bottom before I closed the ties tightly, placing the pouch back in the box, and hiding it back where it belonged.

After I pounded back down the stairs, I ran across the yard, back to the diner, through the back door, and past my dad and Victoria in the kitchen. As I walked out from behind the bar, I headed toward the dining room so I could look for Mike to thank him again.

I entered the room, seeing all of my old classmates from Forks High, most of whom I hadn't spoken to since we'd graduated. Mike was in the far left corner of the room, holding court at a table surrounded by Tyler Crowley and some of his old jock friends. I turned to go and talk to him, when I heard someone shout my name.

"Bella!" Emmett called again, and he had me in a bear hug in no time, swirling me around until the room was a blur of wood paneling. I held onto him tightly, but it wasn't from fear. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed him.

"Hey, Em," I said, my voice muffled by the collar of his jacket.

"Put her down before she barfs," Rose said, her voice standing out against the dull chatter in the room.

Once my vision had steadied, I got a good look at her. She was Rose, but she wasn't the Rose I remembered. Her hair was different, more natural, and she'd traded in the jeans she used to wear for a nice pair of black slacks. Her makeup was more subdued and classic, and it seemed that New York had definitely agreed with her.

"Hey kid," she said, kissing my cheek before hugging me so tightly that I thought I might burst.

"Hey," I smiled.

"It's good to see you, Bella," Jasper said, popping out from behind his sister. He wrapped his arms around me quickly before whispering a message softly in my ear. "Alice is sorry she couldn't come."

Alice had spent Christmas in New York with her family before taking a short trip to Europe with Carlisle and Esme, a late graduation gift. I hadn't seen her since we tossed our caps in the air last June.

Edward stood behind Jasper, and his arm was draped around the shoulder of a girl I'd never seen before. My heart sank all the way down to my stomach as the realization of who she was hit me. Even though I didn't know her name, I knew her title.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you, Bella," she said, not waiting for Edward's introduction as she reached out toward me to shake my hand. "I'm Edward's girlfriend, Angela. I've heard so much about you."

Her fingers were elegant; attached to long, graceful arms. Everything about her seemed peaceful, calm. Her eyes were honest, and her smile warm. I wanted to hate her immediately, but I couldn't. She looked like everything I could've ever hoped for him to have, since he and I would never be together. But seeing the two of them together would always feel a little bit wrong, because she wasn't _me_.

I let out a small cough, hoping that it would help to steady my voice. I stepped forward and placed my hand firmly within her grasp. I wished I could tell her that I'd heard about her as well, but I hadn't even known she existed until now. I hadn't seen this coming at all.

"It's nice to meet you, too," I breathed, hoping she could hear me.

Edward looked at me uncomfortably, his arm still wrapped around Angela's shoulder. I couldn't hug him, and it was obvious that he didn't want to hug me. So I settled for the best I could offer him then.

"Hey, Edward," I said, giving him an awkward half-wave before putting my hand in my pocket. I wasn't sure what it would do if I just left it out in the open, up to its own devices.

"Hi," Edward replied, moving the fingers of the hand that rested on Angela's shoulder in a little bit of a wave motion. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt. I wasn't even sure _why_. He'd been very nice when he let me down last New Year's, after he'd sobered up.

Unfortunately for me, my heart realized what it wanted that night when Edward's lips almost touched mine, and it didn't take the news as well as I had. My heart had ached for him every day since, and I felt it crack in two when I realized what he'd told me that night was a lie. It wasn't that he _couldn't_ have a girlfriend at this time in his life; it was that he didn't want it to be _me_.

In my peripheral vision I could see Rose, Em and Jasper looking at me with pitiful eyes, and I felt like the room was closing in on me as I watched Edward focus on a spot on the floor.

"Will you guys excuse me for a second? I have to go check on something in the kitchen for my dad."

When I got to the kitchen, I leaned over the stainless steel counter, laying my palms flat against it as I stretched my fingers out. I brought my head down low, so close that when I let out a deep breath, it fogged up the surface. I thought that maybe if I could just _breathe_, I would stop feeling like I'd been punched in the stomach.

"Bella?" I turned to see Edward leaning against the doorway. He looked different, like he'd grown about a foot since I'd seen him last, but I knew there was no way that was possible. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jeans, scrunching the bottom of his black button-down shirt around his waist.

"Hey." I stood up straight and turned toward him quickly, wishing all the while that he hadn't seen me like that. "How's it going?"

"Good," he replied. He looked just as uncomfortable now as he had in the dining room, and I felt like a huge fist was tightening around my chest. In all the years I'd known Edward, I'd never seen him look so uneasy around me. Not even last New Year's Day, when he'd come over to my house to apologize for getting sick and to tell me that he'd made a big mistake that night, and that he was sorry for how he'd behaved and for leading me on; that he loved me, but I was his best friend, and _only_ his best friend. I'd seen him twice since; once for a few minutes at graduation, when he'd come to see Alice, and once at a small show the guys had done near the U-Dub campus a few weeks after school started.

"Just good?" I asked, trying to bring back the old Edward, the Edward who was always so awkward and caring. The Edward who gave me rides on the back of his bike and mouthed my lines to me from the front row of the auditorium when Charlotte Peters got sick and I had to play the Nurse in _Romeo and Juliet_. The Edward who brought my mother back to life for just a few minutes all those years ago, when he sang her favorite song at a time when I'd never felt so lost. No matter what had happened between us, I just wanted that Edward back. I smiled at him then, hoping to put him at ease. "You're a big star now," I said.

"Not yet," he replied, the right side of his mouth lifting up in that crooked smile that made my heart flutter. "But our album comes out in a few weeks, and things will pick up once the tour starts..."

"I'll bet." I looked down, tracing the tip of my shoe along the edges of the tile on the floor, unsure of what to say next. Everything felt so _weird_.

"Listen, Bella," he said, pushing himself off of the door frame and walking a few steps closer to me. I recognized the sorrow in his voice right away. "I owe you an explanation for the Angela thing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her-"

"You don't owe me any explanations, Edward," I explained, trying to cut my bitterness with a smile. "You were...quite clear about..." I couldn't bring myself to say those words. "About _everything_."

Edward's face screwed up like I had kicked him, and his gaze went down to the floor. "She's in the business, Bella. She understands what my life is like right now," he murmured, his voice cracking. I barely heard what he was saying.

"Good," I said quietly, and I meant it. I was glad Edward had someone who knew what he was going through. I just wished more than anything that it could've been me.

Edward moved another few steps closer to me, and I could smell him then. Leather, laundry detergent, and _Edward_, a smell that always calmed me, because _he_ always calmed me, and it meant that he was close. It was funny how we could drift apart, not seeing each other for months, and no matter how much everything changed, some things would always just _be_.

"How's Mike doing?" he asked.

"He's good, I guess. Tonight's the first time I've seen him since he went off to California."

"Oh, so, you guys…"

"Last New Year's was the end of us," I admitted. Confessing that you wanted to kiss another guy - and almost did - has a way of being a real relationship killer.

"I can never tell you how sorry I am for that, Bella." And he really truly did look sorry.

That was the second time tonight he'd called me Bella. He never called me that; he'd always just called me B. I didn't want to think about what that meant, because I wasn't sure my heart could take it.

"Don't be. It would've happened sooner or later." I was so glad it happened sooner. "That's one thing I don't regret about that night. It opened my eyes to a few things." Only one of which was the fact that Mike and I would most likely never make it beyond high school. I didn't elaborate on the other things I'd learned that night, because I didn't want to hurt him when he looked so hurt already.

"Bells?" Dad poked his head into the room, a huge smile spreading across his face as he saw Edward standing there. Dad was as proud of him as he would've been if Edward were his own son. "Hey Edward. Good to see you."

"Chief," Edward replied, smiling. It was nice to see that he felt like he could be himself with someone in my family.

"Bells, can you come out here for a sec? I need you to refill the syrup on the soda machine," he asked, winking at me before he disappeared back into the diner.

"I'll see you out there?" I asked for some reason, hoping that he'd stay.

"Yeah," he replied, and I could've sworn I felt his fingers brush my arm as I walked past him, but I didn't look back.

A few minutes later, after I had the soda machine in working order, I walked back behind the bar to pick up a stack of paper plates, because it looked like the buffet was getting low.

"So, what do you think is best?" Angela asked as she walked up beside me. She swayed a bit from side to side, her arms clasped behind her back. She looked so happy. I would've been happy if I were her, too.

"On the buffet? Um...my dad makes a pretty mean potato salad," I said, handing her a plate. If I had any hope at all of getting the old Edward back, I was going to have to be nice to his girlfriend. Besides, she seemed like the kind of girl I would've been friends with in every day life.

"I think Edward likes that," she said, heaping a spoonful onto the plate. "He doesn't look so well, so I thought it might help if he ate something." She made her way down the line, doling out a little bit of everything onto his plate.

"No, don't!" I shouted, practically knocking the spoon with the cherry tomatoes out of her hand as one of them bounced off of the table and onto the floor.

Angela looked so confused.

"Edward's allergic to tomatoes. Don't give him those."

"He is?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. "He gets the worst hives when he eats them." I wasn't sure why, but it made me sad to know that he'd given his heart to a girl who didn't even know that he couldn't eat a tomato. I wondered if she knew that he got the small scar on his chin when he tripped on the Cullen's front porch step when he'd tried to carry Alice home after she'd sprained her ankle playing kickball. Did she know that_ Love Me Tender _was the first song he'd ever learned how to play on the guitar, and that he had an old forty-five of it hidden on the top shelf of his closet? Had he told her that he could only write music with medium point pens with blue ink?

"Oh," she replied as she picked up a napkin, and headed back to the table.

"Have you ever been to Washington?" I asked, trying to make pleasant conversation as we walked.

"No, this is my first time here." She smiled at me, and I could see then how pretty she was. It didn't surprise me that Edward was attracted to her. "Kind of rainy."

"Kind of?" I laughed. "Understatement of the century."

Angela made her way around the edge of the table to go take her place next to Edward on the other side. I smiled when I saw James there, sitting on Jasper's lap. James's eyes drooped as he rammed the Power Ranger he had in his hand with the pink one Jasper held.

Rose scooted over and made a space between her and Emmett, and I pulled a chair up to the spot before I plopped down on top of it. I felt like I could sleep for days, I was so exhausted from the past hour.

"That kid's gonna be a criminal when he grows up," Emmett said, pointing over at James. "He tried to steal one of Rosie's earrings, and he damn near got my wallet." He shook his head, laughing. "I see his mom's getting him prepared to wear prison stripes. He looks like a juvenile delinquent _Where's Waldo_."

I laughed, noticing James's red and white striped shirt for the first time this evening. "The bright colors make him easier to spot in a crowd. He takes off a lot." I said. I tried not to look over at Edward as he talked to Angela, their faces close together as they shared their secrets.

"I'll bet he does. Is that the kid that belongs to the chick your dad's dating?"

"Unfortunately, yes." I said, watching James nearly fall asleep while he played with Jasper.

"That kid has the shortest arms I've ever seen in my life," Emmett began, and it looked like he was getting ready to go on a roll. "He looks like one of those dinosaurs from Jurassic Park. Can he reach his arms up to wash his own hair? Does he have to tape two forks together to make one long one that can make it all the way to his mouth?"

"What has gotten into you tonight?" Rose asked, reaching behind me to smack Emmett on the back of the head.

"I don't know, baby," he said, leaning forward to look at her. He picked up the bottle in front of him and swirled it around before putting it up to his lips. "There must be some weird shit in this Crystal Pepsi."

"Ugh, Em. How do you drink that stuff?"

Emmett shrugged. "I like it."

"So, Bella," Rose said, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. "Meet any new guys at school?" she asked loudly, looking over at Edward.

His face turned the same color mine did as he played with the potato salad on his plate.

"Oooh, boys," Angela said, clasping her hands in front of her and leaning in, as if she were about to hear the most interesting story in the world. I wondered how old she was. She seemed older than Edward, but not by much. "Let's hear it."

"I haven't really had time," I said, hoping that excuse would end that topic. But I knew Rose, and should've known better. I just didn't want Edward to overhear the embarrassing details of my nearly non-existent dating life firsthand. I looked over at him, and he at least had the decency to pretend he wasn't listening.

"Lies. Spill. I know you've gone on at least _one_ date," Rose insisted, twirling a perfect curl around her finger.

"Well, there was this one guy who took me out to dinner, but that was about the extent of it."

"Why was that the _extent _of it, Bella?" Rose asked suspiciously, like she thought she was going to catch me in a lie or something.

"Well, _Rose_," I said, looking at her with the same wide-eyed expression she'd given me. "That was the extent of it because his girlfriend interrupted our main course." I heard Emmett take a sharp breath, and I reached over and put my hand on his mouth before he could say anything. "And yes, the main course I'm referring to actually involved food, Emmett."

"I don't understand how people do that," Angela said, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest. She looked disgusted.

"If Em ever tried to pull something like that on me? I'd give him the Lorena Bobbitt treatment," she laughed.

There was the sharp clang of Edward's fork hitting the table, and I watched as he pushed his plate away before leaning over and saying something to Angela that I couldn't quite hear.

"How do you like New York?" I asked Rose, trying to keep my mind of off the little things that were going on across from me.

"Well," Rose began, turning to face me. "I like it, but...I don't know. It's different, that life."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You know, I left school to be with Em, and I love being with him, don't get me wrong. But the hours are strange, and it's not as glamorous as it looks. Em, Edward and Jasper, they're working _a lot_. And when they go on tour, I don't think..." she trailed off, looking over at Emmett who was listening to her intently. I felt him reach around the back of my chair to hold her hand.

"I didn't think I'd miss Washington, but I do. I miss school. The life they have there in New York, the life they'll have while they tour...it's not one I would've chosen for myself."

"So why do you stay?" I asked.

"Well, I'm going to move back home in a few weeks. Start back up with school in the fall."

"You are?" My voice climbed up an octave as the words left my mouth.

"Em doesn't want me missing out on anything in order to follow him around from city to city. It'll be hard making it work, but I think we can do it," Rose explained, her lips turning up into a smile.

"Yeah, we will," Emmett said tenderly, and I felt like I was stuck in the middle of a moment I wasn't supposed to be a part of.

I looked over at Edward, and he was watching me so intently. I couldn't read the expression on his face, but he seemed unhappy about something. I smiled at him, but that didn't seem to help. I wished I could ask what he was thinking.

"So," Angela said, breaking the silence that had formed between us. "I heard Edward has a tradition of singing a song every year?"

I felt sick all of a sudden, and I didn't like the direction this conversation was headed in one bit. "Well, it's kind of-"

"You should sing your new song," Angela said excitedly, cutting me off. "It'll be great for publicity."

"No, not here." Edward replied, his eyes hard as he turned the glass of water in front of him slowly with his fingers. "I'll sing covers only."

Angela looked confused, and was about to say something before Rose intervened. "He doesn't need publicity as far as these people are concerned, Ang. They'll buy the record just because they're hometown boys making it big."

Angela seemed satisfied with that answer, and turned to Edward, her ponytail swaying back and forth with her quick movements. "Well then, what song are you going to sing to me, sweetie?" she asked, moving her hand up to the tabletop and lacing her fingers with Edward's.

Edward's eyes shifted to me as he stammered, trying to think of an answer to give her.

"The Chief likes Motown," Emmett interjected, trying to save Edward from having to answer while I was sitting right in front of him.

"You guys want to do some Motown?" he asked Em and Jasper, looking back and forth between them hopefully.

"Nah, dude," Jasper answered as Victoria leaned over and lifted a sleeping James from his arms. "This is_ your_ deal."

"Excuse me," I said, smiling at my friends as I got up quickly, steadily. I didn't think I could sit and listen to any more of that conversation.

I walked to the front and grabbed my coat, hoping that the cool night air could calm my heated cheeks and shock my broken heart into beating again. I wasn't ready to lose that last link between us. But guys who had girlfriends didn't go around singing songs to other women. So tonight, whether I liked it or not, Edward was going to make _our _tradition _their_ tradition.

I went outside and hopped on the hood of the diner's delivery truck, not even caring how cold it was, or that it was starting to rain. It would just make me feel numb, and numbness was the only thing that would take the pain away.

I lifted my hood up to cover my head, and then studied the patterns of the gravel below me. I wanted to think about anything but Edward and me, and how maybe things could've turned out some other way if I'd just said or done something differently.

Hearing the crunch of gravel, I watched as Edward's shoes came into view, but I didn't look up to see his face. I heard the truck squeal as it shifted when he leaned against the hood; he was only inches away from me, but those inches seemed like miles. I wasn't sure how long we sat there, but I began to count my breaths. On my eighty-seventh exhale, Edward finally spoke.

"How do you like school?" Edward asked, breaking the heavy silence between us. After everything that had gone on tonight, he was asking me about _school_?

"School's fine," I replied, sounding more annoyed than I had intended to.

"Your grades?" He moved his hand across the hood of the truck, and his pinky finger touched mine, warm in the crisp night air.

I shoved my hands in my pockets quickly, because I couldn't stand the little bit of contact; I could hardly bear how close he was to me after we'd been apart so long.

"My grades are fine, Edward. If you want a progress report, maybe you should go in and talk to my dad."

He sighed, his breath making a misty swirl as it left his mouth. "I just worry about you, Bella." His voice was so quiet.

_He _was worried about _me_? The guy who went off and was living his fancy dreams, and couldn't even be bothered to call, was worried about _me_? The guy who brought his girlfriend home without so much as a word, and was getting ready to turn _my_ thing into _her_ thing was worried about _me_? That was it. I'd found my breaking point.

"Well, _don't_," I shouted. Leaping off of the hood of the truck, I turned so I faced him, and his eyes were wide at my outburst. "You," I snapped, pushing into his chest with my finger. "You should be worried about Angela now."

I backed up a few steps, needing to get away from him as soon as I could, because it just hurt too much. I could smell him, and I could feel how warm he was. I wanted his arms wrapped around me so he could make me feel better like he always did, and my chest ached with what I couldn't have. "Go worry about Angela and leave me the hell alone."

My footing was uneven as I walked, and I stumbled over the diner's front steps. I heard Edward's footsteps as he rushed to help me, and then I felt the warmth of his hand on mine.

"Please," I begged, unable to hold back the tears. "You were drunk and I misread things. You feel guilty, I get it. Just...please, Edward. Please go back inside to your girlfriend."

"You hate me." It wasn't a question; he already believed his words were true.

I stood up straight, shaking his hand from mine, but he was still so close that I felt his warm breath on my skin. "I could never hate you, Edward." I breathed. Everything would be so much easier if I _could_. I loved him, and I knew that in some way I always would. There wasn't any way to change it; it was just one of those things I needed to do to be _me._

"I wish you could understand, Bella. The kind of life I'm living now; the hours, the travel…it's not good for…" he stopped talking then, frustrated, because for once in his life it seemed like he had run out of words.

"She understands," I said, trying so hard to smile, because I didn't want any of this awkwardness. "I'm glad you have someone like that. She's nice, Edward. She seems like the kind of girl you should be with." My words came out like a strangled sob, because I loved Edward with my whole heart. I didn't want for him to be alone, not during such a good time in his life; and if Angela was who he wanted, then that's who I wanted for him.

"You should go in there and sing to her," I said my voice cracking as I ran my fingers up and down the lapel of his jacket. "Pick something sweet, okay? Angela will always remember the first time." I smiled, my tears blurring my vision. I was doing the right thing for him, I just knew it, even though it hurt me so much I almost couldn't breathe. "Go," I whispered.

He stopped at the doorway, the noise from inside filtering out into the cold, rainy night air.

"B?"

_There_ it was. "Yeah?"

"I miss you. More than you'll ever know," he said, that crooked smile finding its way back onto his lips again. For that one moment, I felt like we were_ us_ again.

I nodded. "I miss you, too."

After the door closed behind him, I stood outside for a few minutes, until my skin could no longer stand the sting. When I finally walked back inside, the heat was a welcome reprieve, and as I shook my coat off and hung it up on the rack, I heard the beginning chords of a familiar song begin to play.

I shuffled through the crowd as my dad led Victoria up to the makeshift dance floor, and put his arms around her waist. Victoria rested her head on Dad's shoulder, and I watched as Edward played the piano, his eyes closed the way they always did when he was playing. And Angela stood a few feet away, watching him with adoration painted all over her face.

I walked to the side of the stage and opened the door to the storage room, shutting it quietly behind me. I tiptoed around the cot where James lay sleeping, and curled up on the small bench on the far side of the room.

I rested my head against the wall, running my fingers up the edge of the dilapidated wallpaper. Edward sat on the other side at my mother's old piano, singing a song whose words belonged to someone else, but sounded pretty just the same. I wasn't sure if I'd ever get to hear him like this again, playing to a small room like he did before he was famous, when he was just plain old Edward Cullen. _My_ Edward Cullen. So, I closed my eyes and listened, letting his music cover my skin where his arms never would.

"_Let me fill you heart with joy and laughter...togetherness, well that's all I'm after...whenever you need me, I'll be there..._"

"Bella?" James asked, clutching his blanket and rubbing his eyes. "Can I sit with you?"

The noise must've woken him up. "Come on," I said, patting my knee.

He crawled up on the bench next to me before moving over onto my lap. Once he was settled, he turned to me, reaching his small hand out to touch my cheek. For the first time since I'd known him, I saw a sweet little boy instead of a hellion.

"I'm sorry I made you sad," he said, clumsily wiping a tear from my cheek. "I won't do it again."

"Thank you," I replied, brushing a shaggy lock of hair away from his eyes. James rested his head in the crook of my neck, and I reached around to make sure he was covered with the blanket. I felt his breathing steady against my chest as the music came to a slow stop outside.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about Edward falling asleep with someone else in his arms tonight. It would never be me, and I was just going to have to get used to that.


	7. 1995

*****1995*****

"I wish your girlfriend had come with you tonight," Rose said, repulsed, as we watched Jake shove a whole muffin into his mouth.

"Mphwy?" Jake grunted, crumbs falling from his mouth onto the special black and gold tablecloths Victoria had asked Dad to buy for tonight. Jake shrugged his shoulders as he reached over to his crowded plate and began peeling back the paper lining from the sides of a cupcake. I wondered how he managed to eat like that and not weigh five hundred pounds; or choke to death, for that matter.

"Because you at least try to pretend like you have some kind of manners when she's around." Rose leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest as she scowled at him. "When she's not," she said, motioning towards Jake with a grand flourish of her hand, "you act like a dog."

"I think Jake and Leah have gotten to the point in their relationship where the charade is over. Just the other day we watched him chug a gallon of milk and then burp her name once he was finished," I argued, laughing at the look of abject horror on Rose's face. She thought Jake was a Neanderthal.

Jake rolled his eyes. "I did not. Well, I didn't burp her name, at least. Besides, Leah loves me in spite of my manners," he explained, smiling like a cheeseball, the same way he always did whenever he talked about her.

Rose turned to look at me, her perfectly curled hair spilling over her shoulder as her eyebrows scrunched together in disgust. "I can't believe you used to kiss that," she said, pointing at Jake's crumb-coated lips.

"To her credit," Jake began, licking some frosting off of the corner of his mouth. "She only kissed me a few times before common sense kicked in."

"Actually, slob," Rose said, turning back towards Jake. "I threatened to kick her ass if she didn't start using some common sense. Get your facts straight."

"_Rosalie_," I said through clenched teeth, as I leaned over and bumped her with my shoulder. "_Stop_." She and Jake had never gotten along, and she knew how much I hated it when she insulted him.

Rose's eyes softened just a bit as she looked into mine. She'd seen firsthand the mess I'd been when I went back to school last January, and she'd also seen firsthand the difference Jake had made in my life. If it weren't for him, I'd still be walking around like a zombie. He'd brought me out of my post-Edward depressive funk, and as my friend, she owed Jake her gratitude for at least that much.

"You're right," Rose said quietly, reaching over to rest her hand on my arm. "I'm sorry." I noted that she didn't apologize to Jake directly, and I assumed that was because she was more sorry for upsetting me than she was for what she'd said. I'd take it as a small victory. Progression between those two would have to come in baby steps.

Jake winked at me between bites, and I smiled back at him. He wore the same goofy grin on his face that he'd had the night I'd first run into him outside of the Student Union, when some guy pushed the door open directly into me, causing my books and papers to fly everywhere. Jake ran across the sidewalk with me, chasing my papers as they blew like snowflakes in the late February wind. I bought him dinner as a thank you, and we reconnected over stale hamburgers and soggy french fries.

Before that night in front of the Student Union, I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Jake. My dad and Mr. Black used to go fishing all the time, but once my parents opened the diner their excursions became less and less frequent. Jake's mom passed away not too long after that, and then mine did, too. Our dads became strangers just like Jake and I did, which was a shame, because having each other would've benefited both of us so much back then.

Jake and I left the Union that night with a rekindled friendship. Over the months that followed, I tried so desperately to put Jake into the place I wanted Edward to be in my life. It didn't take me too long to realize that I couldn't make Jake fit where he didn't, no matter how badly I wanted him to. Jake made me laugh, and he was a great friend, but he would only ever be just that. I would always be grateful that I came to my senses quickly, and broke things off with him before I'd ruined one of the greatest friendships I had in my life.

"What time does this thing come on, anyway?" Jake asked, bringing me out of my thoughts as he turned around to glance at the television.

"Eleven-thirty," Rose said eagerly, the words leaving her mouth almost as soon as Jake had finished asking his question. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, stretching her hands out on the table. "Em said they were supposed to be on at eleven-thirty," she repeated calmly.

"Is it live or what?" Jake turned back around to face us, balling up his napkin and throwing it on his empty plate.

"They taped it in LA last month," Rose explained. She'd left school to go down and spend the weekend with Emmett while they were there. I remember how disappointed she'd been when she came back from her trip. She hadn't been able to spend much time with Emmett, and it was the last weekend the guys had free before they started the European leg of their tour, which they'd be on until late March.

Rose still looked sad when she talked about that trip. Hell, lately she looked sad whenever she talked about Emmett. Now that everything with the guys' careers had gone into full swing, I was finally beginning to realize how right Edward had been when he told me that he really didn't have time for much of a life. It didn't seem like Emmett had much time for one, either. Rose and Em always seemed happy when they were together, but I got to see Rose when Emmett wasn't around. I heard her crying after she'd spoken with him over the phone. She never talked about it much, but I knew that it must've been hard for her to live like that.

Seeing Rose and Emmett's struggles with my very own eyes was the one thing that took away just the tiniest bit of the sting of Edward's rejection. We could hardly even maintain a friendship with him being gone so much. A relationship, I thought, most likely would've been an impossibility. Even so, it was still hard not having Edward around.

Sometimes Rose and I wallowed in our loneliness together, but we motivated each other, too. She wanted me to get out and date, and I wanted her to get out and do anything other than wait by the phone for Emmett to call. I threw myself into almost every extracurricular activity I could think of. I volunteered, I worked part-time at the Library, and I did my best to meet new people.

I'd gone on a few dates, but nothing felt right. Maybe nothing felt right because none of the guys were Edward. Maybe I wasn't meeting the right people, or was too afraid of getting hurt. Maybe I just wasn't ready. I couldn't pinpoint what my problem was exactly, but sometimes, when I was alone in my room at night and I had too much time to think, I worried that my heart was just all closed up. I wondered if maybe I still loved Edward too much to let someone else in.

Rose, who knew me better than I knew myself, assured me that when I was ready, I'd meet the right person and my heart would open back up bit by bit. She said that I wouldn't even have to think about it; that my heart would realize that I'd found the right person before my brain even did. I knew, deep down, that she was right. I wished I had some clever bit of wisdom I could offer her to help her through her loneliness. But I had nothing to give but my friendship, and I gave her every little bit that I had.

"Em will call you tonight," I said, wrapping my arm around her as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"You think?" she asked as I smoothed her hair back away from her face.

She straightened up in her seat then, her eyes so full of hope as they looked into mine. I smiled, and wished I could promise her something concrete. "I know he will."

"Ugh," she said, shaking her head and lightly smacking her cheeks. "Look at me. I'm such a sad sack, sitting here wondering if a boy is going to call like some lovesick loser. I'm a woman; I have a life of my own. If he calls, he calls, if he doesn't, well...I'll get a good night's sleep anyway."

_There _was the Rose I knew and loved: ten percent vulnerable, ninety percent tough-as-nails. I wouldn't have her any other way.

"Are they performing somewhere tonight?" Jake asked, running his finger along the edge of his plate and lifting it up to his mouth to lick off a spare bit of frosting. He tried not to show it, but he was a huge fan of Edward's, and he loved the guys' music. He'd never met any of them, and I could tell he was disappointed that they wouldn't be coming tonight.

"I think they already did," I replied. "It's past midnight wherever they are." I wished I had a number where I could reach Edward, to at least wish him a Happy New Year. It felt so strange, him not being here tonight.

"They're somewhere in Germany," Rose said, tracing the lines on her left palm with her fingernail. "Like...nine hours ahead of us."

Jake looked for a second like he might've felt bad for her. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought for a second that I felt the universe shift.

"Quit gawking at me, Black," Rose said, her eyes snapping up to meet Jake's, a scowl marring her face.

Yep, it was just my imagination.

I heard the jingle of the bells against the front door, and Carlisle and Esme followed a cold rush of air into the diner. I stood up to greet them, and Rose was a few steps behind me. Carlisle helped Esme with her coat, which was covered with snowflakes from the beginnings of the rare winter storm we were supposed to get tonight. It was the reason next to no one had shown up for our party.

"Carlisle," Dad said, walking over to shake his hand.

"Sorry we're late," Carlisle said as he shimmied out of his jacket. "I was held up in the Emergency Room this evening."

"Forks General's busiest night," Esme said with a smile as she reached over to hang up her coat.

"You're just in time," Dad said as he leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. "They'll be on in about fifteen minutes."

"Bella," Esme breathed, her eyes all bright and beautiful. She reached over and touched the side of my face as she smiled at me, running her thumb across my cheekbone.

"Hi, Esme," I said, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. I buried my face in her neck like I always did, because even though my mother was gone, she was the closest thing I had to one.

"You just get more beautiful and grown up every time I see you." She reached back and moved a piece of my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"Thank you," I said quietly, feeling the blood rush from my toes all the way up to my ears. I never had been very good at accepting compliments.

"Hi Carlisle," I said, moving over to give Edward's dad a hug, too.

"Bella," he replied, his eyes friendly. "Are you enjoying college? Your father tells us you'll be studying abroad this spring, is that correct?"

I looked over at Dad, who was standing off to the side of us with his arms folded across his chest. The corner of his mustache twitched up into a smile, his eyes gleaming as he looked over at me and smiled.

"I'll be in Italy for ten weeks at the end of the semester," I explained, watching Dr. Cullen's reaction intently.

"Studying the classics," Dad interjected, the corner of his eyes crinkling up the way they usually did when he was happy. I'd seen him look like that more and more lately.

I wasn't _exactly_ going to be studying the classics, but that was a simple enough explanation for it, and I didn't want to get too involved in that conversation tonight so I didn't correct him.

"What a wonderful experience," Carlisle said. "What made you decide to do it?"

I wanted to tell him it was because his son broke my heart, and that I threw myself into any and everything I could to keep myself from thinking about it too much. That I hoped getting away from this place to finally see a bit of the world might give me a fresh perspective. That experiencing new things while Edward was out doing the same made me feel just a little closer to him, even when he was thousands of miles away.

But I didn't tell Carlisle any of that. Instead, I lied. "I've just...always wanted to travel."

Carlisle looked thoughtful for a second, his eyes drifting between mine and Esme's. "Excellent," he finally said, patting me on the shoulder before my dad led him into the dining room.

"I have a box of things Edward gave me for your auction in the back of the car," Esme explained, taking my arm as we followed Dad and Carlisle. "Don't let me forget to give it to you before we leave tonight."

"Wow. That was nice of him," I said, shocked. I wasn't even sure how he'd heard about my involvement. I hadn't spoken to him since I'd begun volunteering.

"I mentioned it to him over Christmas. He was only able to gather so much on such short notice, but he signed what he gave, and you should be able to get some decent money for at least some of it. Such an excellent cause, Bella. That women's shelter has been around since I can remember. I volunteered there myself when I was in college. Edward's so proud of you. We all are."

"He is?" I asked, my heart racing. "You are?"

"Of course we are, Bella," she said softly, sitting down in the chair next to mine.

"Dad told me he was afraid that I was turning into a bleeding heart."

Esme laughed. "That sounds like something your father would say."

"Then he offered to donate a month's worth of food to the shelter."

"That sounds like him, too," she said, looking over towards my dad, a soft smile on her face.

An uncomfortable moment of silence passed between us, and I struggled to think of something to say to her. I hadn't spent much time with Esme alone. Usually Edward or Alice served as a buffer.

"How's Alice doing?" I asked, tracing the small paisley-like pattern on the tablecloth with the tip of my finger.

"Good," Esme said, exhaling a deep breath as she spoke. "I don't really approve of her spending all of her free time traveling around with Jasper," she explained. "But she's an adult and free to do as she pleases. And it gives Edward and Emmett a bit of home while they're on the road."

I nodded, realizing I'd probably touched on a sore subject. "Did you all have a good Christmas?"

"Everything is so different now," she said, her eyes taking on just a hint of sadness. "It's hard having to follow the boys to be with them wherever they are, but...sacrifices and all that. Holidays in hotel rooms are an interesting experience." She looked down at her pants, smoothing out an invisible crease on her knee.

I smiled as I watched her. That was something I'd seen Edward do countless times.

"Did…um...did Angela join you?" I asked nervously. I brought my glass of water up to my dry lips, and tried to ignore the clinking of the ice as my hand shook. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know the answer to that question, but for some reason I couldn't stop myself from asking it.

Esme smiled, folding her hands across her lap. "No, sweetheart," she said quietly. "Angela and Edward haven't been together for quite some time now."

"Oh," I replied with one big, long breath. I felt relieved and rotten all at the same time. Part of me wondered if Angela had a replacement, but I decided that I _could_ stop myself from asking _that_. Maybe ignorance really was bliss.

"Is Victoria here tonight?" Esme asked, looking cautiously toward the kitchen. "More importantly," she said, leaning forward so that she could whisper. "Is her son here? Judging by the quiet, I'm guessing not."

I laughed, because James had quite the reputation throughout Forks. "Victoria's over at the house setting the VCR, because my dad can't figure out how to do it," I explained. "James is at his grandmother's tonight. It's late, and I think his mom has finally caught on to the fact that he doesn't do well in crowds."

"I ran into them at the _Thriftway_ the other day," Esme began, still whispering as she looked over at Dad to make sure he couldn't hear her. I turned around quickly, and it seemed that he was engrossed in a conversation with Carlisle, Jake and Billy. "That boy was running all over the place screaming, with melted chocolate all over his hands. He ruined a perfectly good pair of Mrs. Cope's pants." Esme leaned back, her eyes wide. "Is he always like that?"

I lifted my arm up, showing Esme the crescent-shaped mark on my wrist. "Pretty much."

She ran her perfectly manicured red fingernail along the raised surface of my scar. "He bit you?"

"Yep," I replied, nodding.

"Whatever for?" she asked, glancing over toward my dad. She looked like she did that night when she caught me and Alice putting all of Emmet and Edward's underwear in their spare freezer in the garage.

"Dad and Victoria gave me a new camera for Christmas so that I can take pictures while I'm in Italy. He wanted it, and thought biting me was the way to get me to give it up," I explained, laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

"Oh, Carlisle, Esme!" Victoria sang as she walked in from the kitchen, and everyone turned to look at her. She'd changed the clothes she had on earlier, and poufed her hair up to double its normal size for the occasion. "We're so glad you're here!"

Victoria walked over and gave Esme a kiss on the cheek, smearing her porcelain skin with _Wet 'n Wild_'s latest hot pink lipstick. She did the same to Carlisle before she finally made her way over to my father.

Esme pulled a small compact and white handkerchief from her purse to wipe the fluorescent smudge off her cheek.

"That woman is so fake with her painted face and Tonya Harding hair," Rose sneered.

Esme gave me a thoughtful smile before she looked over at Victoria, now perched across Dad's lap, her huge pile of hair brushing the side of his face as she spoke to Billy and Jake animatedly. I knew that look. It was the look that most people gave when they saw my dad and Victoria together; like the two of them didn't make any sense _at all_.

If I were being honest, I didn't think they made sense either. She wasn't the woman I would've chosen for him, but I wasn't the one who got to pick. All I knew was that since Mom died, I'd never seen my dad smile as much as he did when he was with Victoria. She seemed like a nice enough person from what limited time I'd spent with her, and she treated my dad well.

"She makes him happy," I said, smiling wistfully at Esme as I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess that's what matters."

She reached over and touched my cheek again. "Your mother would be so proud of the woman you've become, Bella."

I smiled, feeling warm tears prick my eyes. Of all the things I aspired to do in my lifetime, at the top of the list was being someone who would've made my mother happy. That's all I wanted; to know that she was somewhere, where ever she was, being proud of the daughter she'd raised.

"Oh, Look!" Victoria said loudly, pointing at the television.

Edward's face flashed quickly across the screen, during a promo letting the audience know that his performance would be coming soon.

"That's an awesome television, Chief," Jake commented, getting up from his seat and running his hand along the top of the screen. "Did you get it just for this?" He asked, as if buying a television just to watch a New Year's Eve show would be the worst offense ever.

"He bought it to watch_ 90210_," I teased. "He wanted to see a life-sized Brenda Walsh." Dad's face turned bright red, and he shot me that look that I used to get when I was in huge trouble; the kind of trouble that involved the use of my middle name.

"C'mon, Dad. Don't deny it."

"Charlie's got a crush," Victoria sang, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, he_ had_ one, until she got kicked off that show," she said, her voice full of satisfaction.

"Kelly Taylor doesn't do it for you, Chief?" Jake asked, popping a grape into his mouth. "I think she's pretty hot."

"Jake," Billy warned. "Enough."

Dad just sat there looking uncomfortable, like a mouse cornered in a tank full of snakes.

"Ummm..." he hummed, trying to change the subject. "Edward was good on that show, Esme," he said, looking over at her pleadingly, like she would somehow call off the attack.

"Edward was on _90210_?" Jake asked, turning to me quickly with a questioning look in his eyes. I wasn't quite sure why this surprised him; everyone gathered around the small television in the common room of our dorm to watch it.

"Yes, Jake," I said, rolling my eyes. "You must've been somewhere sucking face with Leah while it was on."

"Gross," Rose groaned.

"He sang to Donna Martin at the_ Peach Pi_t on her birthday," Dad explained, then rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, probably embarrassed that he'd let too much information slip.

"Got a little crush on her too, Chief?" Jake teased.

Dad shot a grateful look at the television, eyeing it like it was his savior as he reached over to turn up the volume. "Shh," he said, bringing his finger to his lips. "It's starting."

I rested my right hand on the table as I turned in my seat, my left hand bouncing on top of my knee because for whatever reason, I was unable to keep my feet still. My nerves hummed as the announcer introduced them, and I wondered if this was how Edward felt right before he went on stage. I wasn't even sure why I was nervous; they'd taped this segment weeks ago.

The next few seconds went by in a blur, and before I knew it, Edward's face was on the big screen bathed in blue from the stage lights, his hair flopping down into his face. It was the first time I'd seen him outside of a magazine in months. The side of his mouth curled up as he sang in the way that made me feel like I was fifteen again. He looked different, though; thinner. But even after all the hurt, the time, and the miles that separated us, he was still _my_ Edward, and my heart still fluttered like it did every time I saw him.

Edward sang their latest single, some song about a blonde-haired chick he fell in love with who left him; the third one from their debut album that had reached the top of the charts. I liked it; it was a good song and all, but I could tell it wasn't_ his_ song. He didn't sound the way he did when he sang words that he'd written himself. Even though he'd only played a few of them for me, I could still tell the difference. The last time I'd spoken with him he'd told me how disappointed he was that none of his songs had made the final cut of the album.

"Is Edward wearing leather pants?" Rose asked, pointing at the television.

I hadn't been paying much attention to what he was wearing, and it was kind of hard to tell from the camera angle; all I could see was the slightest hint of leg as hundreds of arms waved back and forth throughout the crowd.

"Oh, no," I replied when the camera angle changed, watching as the light bounced off of what were, in fact, leather pants. Leather pants that were about three sizes too small. Now that I'd noticed them they were all I could see, and they reminded me of this crazy dream I'd had one night involving _The Nutcracker_ and _Flashdance_.

"I don't know who told him_ that_ looked good," Rose mumbled, and I could tell she was trying really hard not to laugh.

"_Alice_," Esme and I muttered in unison.

"With that flowing white shirt, he looks like Prince Charming trapped in an Aerosmith video." Rose was laughing uncontrollably now, and I would've slapped her if she hadn't been one hundred percent right.

"Yeah, but without those two hot chicks," Jake said. "Well that blonde over there is kind of cute." He pointed to the side of the television, where a really tall, beautiful woman stood in the wings, watching the guys play with a huge smile plastered on her face.

"Oh, Lord," Rose groaned.

"Who's that?" I asked, my voice sounding higher than I'd meant it to.

"Tanya Denali." Rose turned around in her chair, and I could tell by the look on her face that Ms. Denali was no friend of hers. "She and her sisters are trying to break through. She's Edward's own personal Kato Kaelin."

"Who?" I asked.

"You know," she said, rolling her eyes. "She's a hanger-on, just hoping to get a piece for herself. She thinks a killer smile and her collection of Wonder Bras are enough to get her through life."

"It's not a bad start," Jake laughed.

The phone rang before I had time to ponder that too much, and Dad raced to answer it. It was strange for someone to be calling so late at night.

"Carlisle?" Dad said, poking his head around the corner.

Carlisle looked concerned. He stood up quickly and reached into his pocket to pull out his pager, and he looked at it for a split second, confused.

"It's Edward," Dad said, holding the phone out toward him.

All of a sudden, I felt a tingle all the way from my toes to my fingertips, like I did when I accidentally slipped on a sheet of ice. I groaned, laying my head down on top of my folded arms, wondering if there would ever be a time when just hearing his name didn't set off that physical reaction.

I wasn't sure how much time passed as I sat there, but I heard mumbling and saw Esme get up out of the corner of my eye. I sat up, and saw Rose watching me as I rubbed my hands together furiously, trying to dry my sweaty palms.

"Bella?" Rose said, tapping my shoulder.

"Huh?"

"Esme." I turned my head in the direction of the phone, right where Rose was pointing.

I didn't even feel my feet as they carried me over to where Esme was standing, with the receiver in her hand, and a huge smile on her face. I briefly tried to figure out whether my feet or my heartbeat was making that loud pounding sound.

"He wants to talk to you." Esme held the phone out toward me, and I licked my lips and took a deep breath before I took the receiver.

"Edward?" I asked nervously, and I could tell my voice sounded like it was barely above a whisper.

"Hi," he said in one long exhale of breath. I knew he was smiling; I could hear it in his voice, and the thought of it made my heart skip a beat.

"Where are you?" I asked. It felt so odd to talk to him on the phone; for him not to be here. I wanted him to be here so badly.

"In my hotel room," he replied.

"I know that, smartass. Where is your hotel room?"

Edward laughed, and I closed my eyes. It had been so long since I'd heard that sound. "In Germany."

"I wish you were here," I breathed, biting my lip to keep more words from spilling out, and cursing my mouth for having a mind of its own.

Edward sighed, but he didn't respond; he just sat there quietly for what seemed like forever. I could hear a light tapping in the background, and I wondered what it was, but I didn't ask.

"We watched you on television," I said, my voice laddering up an octave or two in my desperation to fill the silence.

"How'd we do?" he asked, sounding like his old self again. "Be honest."

"Well," I replied, laughing. "The performance was good, but you should never wear those pants again. As a matter of fact, you should burn that whole outfit."

"Alice," Edward said, and I could see him in my mind, shaking his head at his sister.

"Yeah, don't let her pick out your clothes again."

"I won't," he laughed, before he got quiet again. "I'm so glad I called you." His voice was so low that I wasn't sure he meant for me to hear that.

"Why?" I asked, confused. We hadn't even been talking for that long, but he'd seemed pretty uncomfortable for a good bit of the call.

"It's hard to explain," he said, and that tapping started again. "I don't...I don't have too many people who tell me the truth these days. I feel like they're all just kissing my ass, telling me what they think I want to hear. Talking to you, it makes me feel like…like I'm me again, without all the bullshit..." He sighed. "That probably doesn't even make sense."

"It makes sense," I breathed, wishing I understood more of what he was going through.

"Did my mom give you the stuff for the auction yet?" he asked.

"Not yet, she said she'd give it to me before she left tonight."

"Oh…okay," he said hesitantly, sounding disappointed. "There's something in there for you. I mean…for you especially. Make sure you don't auction it off. You'll know what it is when you see it."

"Okay," I breathed, feeling like a bunch of balloons were trying to fly out of my stomach.

"Mom told me you're going to Italy this semester," he said, his voice sounding proud just like my dad's did. "You'll love Italy. I did."

"I'm nervous, but I think I'll have a good time. At least, I hope I will," I said, twisting the phone cord around my pinky finger. "Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"When are you coming home again?"

There was a long pause before he finally spoke. "I'll be home in April."

"Oh." I tried not to sound as disappointed as I felt. I'd be in Italy then.

"If I had more free time, I'd come back before then," he said, and I could tell that he was trying to ease my disappointment.

"I know," I said quietly.

"Hold on a sec," he said, and I could hear his hand muffle the receiver. Even through all that, I heard the squeak of a door opening, and a woman's voice say something to him. "Shit…Bella, I have to go," he said.

"It's okay, I understand." I was surprised we'd spoken as long as we had.

"I just... I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year."

I covered my other ear to drown out the noise of the countdown going on in the other room. I wanted to make sure I heard every last word of my conversation with Edward.

"Thanks," I said. "Happy New Year to you, too."

"Bye, Bella."

"Edward?" I asked quickly, but the only answer I received came in the form of the dull hum of the dial tone.

I reluctantly put the receiver back on the cradle, wondering if there was a way to star sixty-nine Europe. I wished I'd had just a few minutes more with Edward, but he was on someone else's time now.

When I turned the corner to go back out and join the crowd, everyone was standing at the front door putting their coats on, and it seemed like maybe I'd been talking to Edward for longer than I'd thought. I walked over to say my goodbyes.

"We've got to get going," Esme said as she buttoned her coat. She looked over her shoulder, pointing to the snow that was falling outside, steadier and heavier than it had been before. "Carlisle wants to get home before it gets too bad out there. We left the box for you on the bar, sweetie." She leaned over to kiss my cheek. "I put a little something in there for you, too."

"Okay," I said, smiling. "Thank you for coming…I feel like it's been so long, and it was so good to see you."

"You too," she said, reaching up to cup my cheek, like she'd done earlier. "Come by the house before you head back to school, okay?"

"I promise."

I watched as they walked down to their car, and said my goodbyes to Jake, Billy, and Rose, too. I knew I seemed kind of distant, but I couldn't keep my mind off of what was waiting for me in that box.

"You going back to the house?" Dad asked as he wiped up the bar, his wet towel brushing the sides of the box Esme left for me.

"Yeah," I replied, trying really hard to sound nonchalant about it, but failing miserably.

"Need help carrying that?"

"I got it," I said, surprised at how light the box was as I pulled it off of the counter.

"Night, Dad. I love you." I leaned over and kissed his cheek before I walked out the door.

"Night, baby. I love you, too."

I closed the distance between the diner and the house as quickly as I could, stretching my legs as far as I could between steps as I raced through the falling snow. When I finally got inside, I lumbered up to my bedroom, and the weight of the box grew heavier the farther I walked. Closing my door behind me, I placed the box on the floor, practically ripping my clothes off before slipping into my pajamas.

When I returned to my room after brushing my teeth, I sat on my desk chair and pulled the box toward me slowly. My nerves tingled as I opened the top; I wasn't sure why, but I was nervous about what I would find in there. I lifted the top carefully, as if there was a bomb waiting inside, and I laughed as I thought about how ridiculous I must've looked.

I placed the top on the floor next to me, and sat back as I looked at the box's contents. Laying on top of everything was a faded, ratty old grey sweatshirt. The strings dangling from the hood were frayed at the ends, and one of the bronze eyelets that held them in place was coming loose from the fabric. I smiled as I leaned over to pick it up, and laid it gently on my lap.

My fingers traveled across the crackled _University of Washington _print across the chest, worn from years of wearing and washing. I brought it up to my nose, wondering if it still smelled the way it did the last time I'd worn it; when I went camping with the Cullens, the Labor Day weekend before I started my senior year of high school.

As the sweatshirt unfolded in my arms, I felt something slip out of it, and by some miracle I was able to catch it before it hit the ground. A hot pink Post-It note covered the small picture frame, and I read the writing, in Esme's elegant script.

_Bella,_

_Fame, concert tours, and television appearances are fleeting. These are the moments that matter. This is one for you to keep._

_-Esme_

I placed the frame gently on my desk before I lifted the old sweatshirt over my head. I swam in the fabric, just like I had the last time I'd worn it, and I folded my legs up on my chair and tucked them underneath the hem. I pulled the too-long sleeves up past my wrists, and slowly peeled the Post-It off of the glass overlay.

I couldn't help but laugh when I looked at the picture, and I was certain the grin I had on my face now matched the one I had in the picture in front of me. Edward and I sat perched on a huge boulder, smiling at each other. I was wearing the same sweatshirt I had on now; Edward had given it to me shortly before the picture was taken. I had never been camping before, and I wasn't prepared for how cool the air would get as we reached the higher elevations.

We had stopped to rest in the clearing that was the backdrop for the photo. Edward had captured a tiny frog that he'd found just moments before, and was holding it clasped in his hands. He parted his thumbs the tiniest bit so I could see, and when he did that the frog hopped out and hit me right in the face.

Edward reached up to wipe its wet mark off my cheek, and that must've been when Esme took this picture. I could see it clearly now in hindsight, the way my eyes sparkled when I looked at him. How long had I loved him before I realized it? How could I never have known?

I reached forward and traced the small space in between our faces with the tip of my finger; a distance no wider than my pinky that felt like a million miles. I wondered what would've happened if I hadn't been so blind back then, and had summoned the courage to put my lips on his that day. Maybe it would've changed everything. Maybe it would've changed nothing at all. That was the problem with wondering. No matter what, you always ended up right back where you began.

I placed the frame on top of the stack of books I was going to take back to school with me, so I wouldn't forget it. Looking back into the box, I saw a smaller one, gift wrapped in bright red paper with an elegant ribbon tied around it. My heart leapt when I saw it. I picked the box up, running my fingers along the smooth edges of the paper before I set it down on the edge of my bed. Edward had said there was something in the box from him for me. It wasn't the sweatshirt; it was this.

I sat on the edge of my chair, listening to the white noise of the heat filtering through the vent on my ceiling, staring at the beautifully wrapped box sitting on my bed as if it were a ticking time bomb. The perfectly tied white bow fluttered a bit under the air, and the edge of the ribbon brushed the small card tucked under it. My name was written on that card in Edward's unmistakable handwriting; the neat kind he used to have to write very slowly to perfect. He'd sit with his brow creased, eyes full of concentration as the pen crawled across the paper. I smiled, wondering if he still needed to write like that.

My heart beat wildly as I stood up and walked over to my bed, picking the gift up as I sat down and scooted back against my pillows. I covered my legs with my mom's quilt, and examined the neat edges of the shiny red wrapping paper. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous to open it. This wasn't the first present Edward had given me, but for some reason this one felt much, much different than the rest.

I carefully ran my finger underneath the edge closest to me and flipped the paper up, gently pulling the tape away from the white box underneath. I continued that method on each side until the paper was completely off and resting on my bed in one whole piece.

I cut through the tape fastening the lid to the box with my fingernail, and then gently lifted it off. I pulled back the tissue paper that lined the box, and there, sitting on top of another sheet of tissue paper were two CD cases.

I laughed when I pulled out the first case, immediately recognizing the familiar cover art behind the plastic. I traced my fingers across the _Slippery When Wet _lettering, and I couldn't help but laugh when I noticed the silver scrawl underneath the Bon Jovi header.

Edward had gotten this CD signed. For me.

I opened the jewel case, and smiled when I saw the initials at the top right on the back of the liner notes.

_EAC_

Edward and Emmett put their initials in their CDs to differentiate between which CD belonged to whom. This one was Edward's.

I smiled, remembering the hard time Edward had given me when I'd asked him to sing _Livin' On A Prayer_ to me all those years ago. _Of course_ he would make fun of me for having bad taste. It was just like him to pretend he didn't like something that he really did, just so I wouldn't find out about it and tease him right back.

The second CD had a plain white cover, upon which Edward had written a note:

_I can't get this melody out of my head. It's rough, and it's just an instrumental. Emmett's been teasing me while I tinker with it - he's afraid I'm going to ditch him to become the next Yanni. _

_I can't get the words right yet. Listen. Tell me what you think._

I popped the CD into my Discman, and put my headphones on, listening to the static before the track began to play. The notes on the piano began with a childlike tinkering; happy and playful. The more Edward played, the more melodic the music became, and what began as a playful tune turned into something much more dramatic; sweet and tender. He went from pounding the keys to caressing them, and when I closed my eyes I could picture him sitting there, completely lost in his music. Just the thought of it made me smile.

The music ended abruptly, almost as if he wasn't sure how to finish it, or which direction to take the song in next. I'd heard many of Edward's works in progress, but this one seemed the most raw. I wasn't sure if it was because he played this particular song on the piano when I'd been used to hearing him on guitar, but it sounded disjointed, like the movements of the song were all parts of a different story. It was still beautiful though, just like most of Edward's music.

I pressed the repeat button and listened again as I unfolded the next layer of tissue paper, impatient to see what else was waiting for me. Underneath was a large, black leather-bound journal with gold edging, and a ribbon fastened to the binding. The cover featured a relief of the Roman Colosseum in the center. I opened it, and read the note that Edward had written on the inside.

_Bella,_

_When I left to go on this tour, my dad encouraged me to keep a journal so that one day, when I was old and gray and couldn't remember to put socks on in the morning, I would have something to read and remember all the great and extraordinary experiences I'd had in my life. _

_I read a quote recently that said, 'God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.' Don't waste a single minute of your time in Italy. See everything; experience it all. Plant your roses on these pages. _

_Be safe._

_-Edward_

In the middle of the book, on the page the ribbon marked, was a small, white envelope. I opened it slowly and inside, wrapped in a small sheet of white paper, was an international calling card, along with a note.

_- When you get homesick, pick up the phone. All the quarters you need are on me. _

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, smiling as I looked at the box before me through blurry eyes. It had been such a long time since my heart had felt so full; since I'd felt so close to Edward. And while he wasn't technically here with me, in so very many ways he _was_.

I took my headphones off and crawled out from under the blanket, swung my legs over the side of my bed, and walked over to the box filled with memorabilia: signed CDs, t-shirts, posters, and several large envelopes that I was too tired to go through. I stacked everything on my desk so that I could look at it all in the morning.

I glanced down at the empty box, and noticed the bottom flap sticking up; a small bit of grey peeked out from underneath the cardboard. I bent down and lifted it up, hearing a pop as I separated the board from the glue, and my breath caught when I saw what was hidden there: a tiny, pocket-sized spiral bound notebook. The same kind of tiny, pocket-sized spiral bound notebook I'd seen Edward write in and carry around for years.

I knew I shouldn't look at it, but I picked it up and turned it around and around in my hands anyway. Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and I opened up the cover. The first few pages were nearly gray with graphite and eraser residue. I couldn't make out the words that had been there. I smiled when I flipped through the pages, eventually seeing the signature blue ink that I knew Edward wrote with. He told me once that writing in pencil allowed him to be a coward; those words were so easily erased. Writing in pen made him feel braver, because no matter how many times he crossed them out, his words had made their mark forever.

Page after page was filled with random notes and the odd cluster of words that seemed like maybe they were meant to be a chorus to a song. There were bars and bars of notes, and I wished then that I'd learned how to read music because I felt like I was seeing Edward's secrets, only they were in a language that I couldn't understand.

The last page was full of scribbles, more so than any of the other pages, and several sentences were written out in his teenage handwriting. There was a messy header that read _Song Titles_, and every phrase listed below it made me laugh they were so cheesy; _Meadow at Moonlight_. _When You Smile, I See the Sun_. _Beneath the Blanket of..._ He hadn't quite finished that last one.

At the very bottom of the page, outside of the list of titles and random doodles was a phrase so bold and bright that it caught my attention. Words that started out messy were made neat with repetitive pen strokes, marking the letters so deeply that the paper crinkled, and the light from my desk lamp shone on top of the ink.

These words had been special to him, whatever they were, so I traced them over and over again, until the tip of my finger was blue.

_Rhapsody in B._


	8. 1996

*****1996*****

"I can't eat these anymore," Emmett said, looking down sadly at the colored candies in his hand. He'd been debating about shoveling them into his mouth for so long that his palm was starting to look like a rainbow.

"God, Em." Rose smiled as she rolled her eyes. Even when Emmett was irritating her, she still thought he was cute.

"Why not?" I asked. He'd been staying with me and Rose on and off for the past couple of months, and Emmett usually ate his weight in M&Ms every week.

Rose sighed. "Ever since he saw that commercial where they could talk and were sitting around eating each other, he's had a hard time with it."

Emmett balked, dropping the half-melted chocolate onto a napkin and wiping his palm on the thigh of his jeans. "They have faces, Rosie. _Faces_. They're like a little candy family."

"You still eat the green ones," she teased, winking at him with that mischievous Rosalie Hale smile painted on her lips.

Emmett brought Rose's hand up and kissed her knuckles, one by one. They were adorable _and _sickening to watch, and I wondered if it was moments like these when Emmett thought giving up his rock star lifestyle was worth it.

Judging by the way he was looking at Rose, I was willing to bet that he did.

"Yeah," Emmett said, picking up a green one and popping it into his mouth, "I don't have a problem with those."

Rose giggled, and I knew that I'd had just about enough.

"On that note," I said, pushing against the table to slide my chair back. "I just remembered that my dad had asked me to do...something." Lame excuse, but sometimes being around Rose and Em got to be a bit much. I loved them both, but there were some things I just didn't want to hear about.

I meandered through the dining room, past Dad and Vic making eyes at each other across the bar, past the sink and the prep counter, all the way back to the pantry. I figured I'd get a few cans of olives and stuff that Dad would need to refill the buffet later, just so he wouldn't have to make an extra trip. If I had to get away from my friends, it didn't hurt to be productive while I was doing it.

I filled my arms with enough olives, pickles, and crackers to feed a small army, and with Emmett around, I prayed that would be enough. I balanced the cans in my embrace, leaning back so they could rest against my chest, and planted my chin firmly on the top can to keep the other ones from falling as I walked.

When I cleared the doorway I turned around, awkwardly moving my arms to free at least two fingers so I would be able to pull the door closed, because Dad hated when I accidentally left it open. I moved slowly, careful of my precarious position, and I almost had the door shut when-

"Here, let me help you."

Startled, my temple of cans rattled together, and I moved my eyes up slowly to see the face that belonged to that familiar voice I'd know anywhere. Edward smiled at me, his hair a wild, windblown mess, and his cheeks flushed bright pink from the winter chill in the air outside.

"I'll take these," he said, nodding his head toward my armful of food.

Edward brought his hand up to my chin, lifting it gently from the can perched on top of all the others. I closed my eyes as the tip of his thumb brushed across the small slope of my chin, so feather light, and even though I felt so estranged from him, _God_ how I wanted him to keep touching me like that. On my cheek, through my hair, down my neck, _everywhere_. Luckily, I remembered myself quickly, and Edward gave me a small smile as he deftly began unloading the cans from my arms into his.

"I can do that, you know," I said, trying to sound friendly, even though I didn't feel very friendly at all.

Edward chuckled, but I could tell it was more out of nervousness than amusement. "I know you can, but I want to help. Just show me where to go."

I shrugged, realizing then that it would be a waste of time to argue with him, and led him out of the kitchen, past the bar, and over to the buffet without a word. The clanging of aluminum cans and glass was the only noise between us.

I watched as he emptied his arms, careful to line everything up on the table, taking his time to make sure all the labels faced out in perfect order. I wondered if he was purposely trying to be neat or if he was just trying to stall. I wanted to leave, and stay, and yell, and hug him. I was so confused; nothing ever made sense when Edward was around.

"Why are you here?" I asked, my voice quiet and shaking. I was surprised he was even able to hear me, but I could tell by the way his back straightened and his body stiffened that he had.

"Do you want me to leave?" he countered, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. His eyebrow was raised, and somehow I knew that he really wanted me to ask him to stay.

I sighed. What I wanted was for him to stop confusing me; I wanted him to stop giving me travel journals, phone cards and pretty words, and then avoiding me when I tried to contact him. I hated that I was forced to relay all of my stories from Italy to hotel clerks and Edward's handlers. I'd spoken to Edward's manager more times over the last year than I'd actually spoken to him. But this wasn't the right place to have that conversation; it would have to wait until later, when we were alone. So, for now, I just settled on telling him the truth. "I want you here."

"Excuse me," a small voice interrupted. I looked over and saw Mrs. Cope's granddaughter, Jane, tugging on the bottom of Edward's shirt.

"Hi," Edward said, turning around and smiling at her, all the tension melting from his face.

"Can I have your autograph?" Jane shoved a clean napkin and a pen at Edward and I smiled, seeing that her hand was shaking. She was normally raising hell as James's preferred partner in crime, and the last time I'd had the pleasure of seeing her face was when I was cleaning out all the garden dirt they'd shoveled into my underwear drawer over the summer. It was nice to see her out of her element.

"Sure," Edward answered, squatting down so he was closer to Jane's height. "What's your name?"

"Jane," she said shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Edward smiled as he wrote on the napkin perched on his knee, and when he was finished he handed her pen and autograph back to her. "It's nice to meet you Jane."

"Thank you," she said in her sweetest voice, and I couldn't help but grin at the exchange.

"You're welcome."

As Jane skipped away, I saw that a small line had formed behind her. It seemed that once one person had gotten up enough courage to ask for his time, everyone else thought he was fair game.

_Stay_, Edward mouthed, and I did as he asked, standing off to the side as the long line of Forks natives enjoyed what would probably be the only brush with fame they'd ever have.

It took Edward about twenty minutes to work through the line of fans, and he did it all with good humor and grace. It was odd, getting to see the effect of his fame firsthand. If he had that many people wanting his autograph in Forks, I wondered how bad it was for him in other cities.

After the last autograph hound was gone, Edward turned around to the buffet and skewered a few olives on a toothpick.

"Are you alone?" I asked cautiously, unable to hide my curiosity any longer.

I could almost see Edward wince in his reflection on the sneeze guard, but when he turned to answer me his face was carefully guarded. "Yes," he said quietly, almost as if he were ashamed. "Were you expecting me to bring someone?"

Was I? I'd seen pictures of Edward and Tanya Denali splashed across the covers of all the supermarket gossip magazines in Seattle and in Forks. They'd started spending time together over the summer, and Edward had even taken all five-foot-eleven statuesque inches of her to a few awards shows. They'd never confirmed they were a couple, but just like everyone else in the world, I assumed that they were. I hated that I even wondered about Edward's dating life, but seeing him brought all of my useless feelings for him right back to my heart, the one place they didn't belong.

"I don't know that I was expecting it, but at least I was prepared this time." The words stung as I said them, and even though I hadn't intended for them to hurt him, I knew that they had.

"I'm alone," he said, his voice so hollow that it nearly broke my heart.

I couldn't even take a small bit of joy from his admission, not when he sounded the way he did. I smiled at him weakly, and nodded as we walked back to the dining room where Rose and Emmett were still sitting at our table.

"Eddie!" Emmett said, backing out his chair with a long scrape against the wood floor. Emmett stood and wrapped Edward in a huge bear hug, patting his back so loudly that I could hear it above the din of the voices of the people crowding the diner.

I smiled at the two of them. Edward and Emmett had always been close, and even though they'd spent Christmas together at their grandmother's house in Rochester, they were both still so happy to see each other. Edward held onto Emmett a beat longer than he normally would have, and the sight tugged at my heart. I hadn't spoken to Edward since Emmett left the band, but I could tell it was hard on him.

As Edward and Emmett broke apart, I slid into the chair next to Rose as Edward rounded the table to take a seat directly across from mine.

"Where's your puppy?" Rose asked, and I could feel her leg move as she kicked Edward teasingly under the table. "Did you forget him when you were taking that long walk on the beach under the moonlight?"

Edward laughed, shaking his head. "That was the first and last time I let my manager say yes to a_ Tiger Beat_ spread. I _knew_ I would never live that one down."

"You gave the most generic answers to that questionnaire, Edward. It was the biggest cliché ever," Rose complained.

"I know," Edward said, slipping another olive into his mouth. "I copied someone else's answers."

Rose's lips turned up in a sly smile. "Damn, now I can't tease you about that anymore."

"I don't really care to tell the entire world about my favorite things." Edward looked down at his hands, which were clasped together, resting on top of the table. "The ones who matter already know what they are."

"Well," Emmett began, tapping his fingers in a steady rhythm, "Rose and I bought about two hundred of those magazines from all the grocery stores we could find, and plastered that picture of you with the puppy all over Bella's bedroom." He laughed almost as hard as he had the day I first saw what they'd done. "It was hilarious, dude. You should've seen her face."

Edward looked at me, trying not to laugh but failing miserably.

It was hard to be upset with him when I saw him so rarely; I felt like I should make the most of every moment we had together, even if I was the only one who cared. "It's true. My bedroom looked like a celebrity issue of _Dog Fancy_ had barfed all over it," I added, laughing along with the rest of them. "They papered the ceiling, too."

"Really?" Edward asked, almost sounding like his old self again.

"Really. I nearly peed myself when the huge sheet of posters they plastered up there fell down into my ceiling fan in the middle of the night," I explained. "That's really not a pleasant way to wake up."

"You kept them up?" Edward asked quietly, looking back down at his hands again.

"The posters? Yeah, for a few days," I shrugged, hoping no one would make a huge deal out of it.

"So, E," Rose began, looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "What's up these days?"

Edward knew Rose well enough to be able to tell that she was up to something, and he sat up straight in his chair, preparing himself for her attack. His eyes flickered over to mine as I watched him, and I could tell he was feeling intimidated. Edward had always been a little uneasy around Rose, but then again, _a lot _of people were uneasy around Rose. That was one of the things I loved about her; she didn't let anyone feed her a line, and she could see through their bullshit almost immediately.

"Nothing much," Edward answered, breaking a toothpick in two between his fingers. "I've just been recording and touring. My life really isn't all that interesting right now."

"I'd call hanging out with Tanya Denali pretty interesting, wouldn't you, Bella?" Rose teased, bumping her shoulder into mine. "She's a Monet," Rose whispered. "Makeup fixes a lot of it. But unfortunately for her she has a speaking voice that sounds just like that little girl on _Party of Five_."

"Rose..." I didn't like where this conversation was going one bit.

Of course, she ignored me. "What happened to that guy she used to date, Edward? You know, the one who looked like Forrest Gump?"

"I don't know," Edward said. "Her personal life isn't any of my business." He was looking at me when he answered though, not at Rose.

"Interesting," she said, tapping the tips of her blood red fingernails across the checkered tablecloth before she turned to me.

I took a deep breath to prepare myself for what was coming, because I knew Rose too well to think she'd leave it alone. I gave her a pleading look, hoping she wouldn't do what I was sure she was about to.

"Alec coming tonight?" she asked, smiling.

People could say what they wanted about Rosalie Hale, but she never, ever disappointed.

"Rosie," Emmett said, putting his hand on her arm.

Alec was a sore spot as far as Rose was concerned. She thought he'd treated me badly, but I'd had no illusions of grandeur as far as our relationship was concerned. It was easy to fall for him in Italy, all caught up in the romance of being strangers together in a foreign land. But our relationship barely survived the plane ride across the Atlantic, and two weeks after we returned home for the summer, we'd broken things off.

"Someone special?" Edward asked. His brows furrowed as his green eyes stared into mine.

"Not anymore," I explained, hoping to put an end to the conversation. "And I think he's in Lake Tahoe with his girlfriend now." I turned my head to the right, giving Rose a pointed look.

She bit her lip and it slid through her teeth slowly, her trademark sign of victory. I wasn't quite sure what it was she thought she'd accomplished other than putting me and Edward on the spot, making us feel uncomfortable as hell, but she seemed pleased with herself nonetheless.

"Hey!" Alice said, her high pitched voice breaking through the silence that descended over the table. She trotted into the room just like she always did, looking like she owned the place. Jasper followed quickly on her heels, because wherever Alice went, he went too.

Alice plopped down in the chair next to me, hoisting her huge purse up onto the table, its contents spilling everywhere.

"Did you guys have a nice little excursion?" I asked, knowing how much Alice and Jasper had both been looking forward to their short vacation in Portland between Christmas and New Year's.

"It was great," Alice said, looking lovingly over at Jasper who winked at her in return. I always felt like the odd man out when I was around Rose, Em, Alice and Jasper. "We almost didn't make it back in time," Alice said, looking over her shoulder at Jasper. "Um...car trouble."

"Sure," I teased, thankful she wouldn't elaborate because her brothers were nearby.

"Here, Bella." Alice rummaged through her pile of crap and threw a _Star_ magazine down on the table. "You'll be interested in the article on page twenty-six."

"What are you doing reading that trash, Al?" Edward asked, sounding wounded that she'd even opened the cover of that magazine.

I flipped the pages until I reached twenty-six, and my breath caught as I looked at the photo spread in front of me. The headline was in huge, red letters, looking every bit as tawdry as the article promised to be. It read, _Edward Cullen: Caught in Between._

"Jazz and I stopped at a gas station in the boonies," Alice said as she pounded a bottle of Snapple against her palm. "I was bored and needed something to look at on the drive back. It's kinda clever that they used one of your song titles in the headline."

My eyes scanned the print, only focusing on small clusters of words: _sordid love triangle...caught in between the starlet and girl next door... "I see him leave her Park Avenue apartment all the time,"..."Tanya says it's serious," an insider revealed..._

Framing the text were several pictures, mostly of Edward and Tanya Denali: the two of them having lunch, taking a walk together, posing on the red carpet. But there, right smack in the middle of all the lies and scandal were the two pictures I'd never expected to see in such a rag. A blown up copy of my senior picture was layered on top of the corner of another photo, and when I saw which one it was, I immediately felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

There, in an article declaring Edward's love for another, was the picture that made me realize how long_ I'd_ loved _him_; the one Esme had given me last year, which had found a home on my nightstand until it disappeared in the aftermath of a party Rose and Emmett had thrown while I was out of town.

The clarity hadn't translated well to print, but as I laid eyes on the picture I hadn't seen in nearly a month, I studied it, feeling like I'd been punched in the stomach. It was exactly the same as I'd remembered; the two of us sitting on that rock, Edward's hand on my face, me looking so in love with him that I almost couldn't breathe. But now, instead of being in my bedroom where it belonged, it was here in this magazine, which lay in countless living rooms across the country. It was_ my_ picture, _my_ moment, my _Edward_, surrounded by an article that painted me as the other woman.

"Fuck," Rose whispered, her voice a mixture of anger and shame. I looked at her through blurry eyes, and her expression held nothing but sympathy. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," she breathed, bringing her hand up to my face, ready to wipe away the tears that were threatening to fall.

I felt the sting of a paper cut as the magazine was pulled from underneath my fingertips, and I looked over at Edward, anger etched so deeply across his face that I thought he might crumble with just one touch. His hands splayed out across the pages, his fingers covering all the words, the lies, and his thumbs and index fingers framed the two pictures of me perfectly in the center.

"Where did they get these?" he asked, and he sounded so broken then that I thought my heart might break, too. "Mom…mom had these pictures. S-s-she wouldn't have..."

Edward's stammering took me out of the moment, and I wondered what it would be like to think, even for one second, that my own mother had sold me out.

"It's my fault," Rose said, still looking me in the eyes. "Em and I had a party at the house a few weeks ago, when Bella had gone home to visit Charlie. Things got a bit out of hand. Some things went missing, and…"

"Your mom gave that picture to me, Edward. I had it in my room," I explained, hoping to calm him down, because I was afraid he was going to put his fist through a wall.

"Someone stole this from you and sold it," he said, beginning to wrap his fingers around the paper so that he could tear it to shreds.

"Wait!" I shouted, stopping him just as the paper had started to rip.

Edward looked up at me, startled. I reached over and gently took the magazine from him, turning it back toward my direction. I delicately continued his rip, tearing around the picture of us; the one that could never be replaced. I planted my fingertips firmly along the edge of the photo and pulled the paper carefully, making sure the jagged edges never reached the picture. Once it'd gotten it out, I smoothed out the small wrinkle that marred the corner.

When I looked up, I noticed that Edward was watching me with the softest expression on his face; so calm and collected that I couldn't even tell he'd been so angry just moments before.

"I just...I wanted to make sure I had this," I said, my voice sounding weak and defeated. I pushed the magazine back over to him, smiling to reassure him that I was all right. "Rip it," I said, wishing there were some way he could rip them all out of existence with a single touch of his hand.

Edward shredded the magazine in seconds, balling the remnants in his fist and standing up from his chair so quickly that it slammed back against the wall, damaging the paint. He walked over toward the door, enraged, throwing the magazine in the metal trash can with such force that it almost fell over, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.

It was a strange feeling, being exposed. I'd expected something like this to happen eventually, and I thought I'd prepared myself for it. I thought when the time came I'd be able to brush it off, and to look at the whole thing with a good amount of humor. I just hadn't ever expected to feel so…_violated_.

"Way to go, Alice," Emmett said as he stood up.

Rose sat still, looking as if she'd been punched in the face.

"What?" Alice asked innocently. "I thought they should know."

I stood up quickly to catch Emmett before he went outside, and touched his forearm to stop him from going after his brother.

"I'll go," I said, giving him the best smile I could manage, and he squeezed my elbow gently as I walked away.

I stopped at the coat rack to grab my jacket, not really sure how far Edward might've gotten in the minute that had passed since he'd walked out. For all I knew, he could've gotten in his car and left by now, and I hoped that he was just outside getting some fresh air.

I slowly opened the diner's front door, and I didn't have to look too far to find Edward. He was there, standing right in front of me, his arms stretched out over the railing with his fingers in a white-knuckled grip.

"Edward?" I said, the silence of the night enhancing every creak of the floorboard as I walked over to him. He didn't answer, and I stopped about a foot away, watching the steady rise and fall of his back as he struggled to tame his angry breaths.

I reached forward, placing my hand between his shoulder blades, and I could tell his skin was heated, even through the cotton of his shirt. I began a slow circuit down the column of his spine; up, down, and up again until his breathing finally steadied.

"It's okay," I whispered, closing the little bit of distance that remained between us, resting my head on his shoulder. I ran my hand down his arm, over taut muscle earned by years and years of playing his guitar, until my fingers came to rest on top of his. They looked so small in comparison. "It's going to be okay."

"Everything is so out of control," he breathed, and as soon as the words left his mouth I wished I could take him away from this mess, just the two of us, so that we could get to know each other again and become the people we were before he signed his life away.

I had no words to offer him, so I turned my head and pressed my lips against the fabric covering his shoulder, closing my eyes and imagining that we were anywhere but here.

"Someone sold your fucking yearbook picture to a tabloid, B. And that one of us on the rock...that was _our_ rock. That was _our_ memory. Now it belongs to the whole goddamn world."

"I should've kept it hidden, instead of leaving it out in the open where people could see."

Edward exhaled a short, bitter breath. "That's what normal people do, B. They put pictures of their friends out; don't you dare apologize for doing that."

It seemed strange, how quickly everything had changed. Just a few minutes ago I'd felt so angry with Edward, and now...now I just wanted to make things better. It was hard to believe that having a private moment between us exposed to strangers made me feel closer to him than I had in years.

"I'm used to seeing that shit about me, B. But it never should've been you. I never wanted it to be you," he said, turning his head to kiss the top of mine.

A moment later, Edward stood back, and instinctively I let go of him. Before he walked away, he looked at me, his face so full of sorrow as his foot planted down on the porch's first step. "I have to go," he said, looking down at his feet. "I need some time to think."

He wasn't going to stay until midnight. I nodded, swallowing against the lump in my throat. "Can I come see you later?" I asked, now more desperate than ever to talk to him, to work things out between us.

Edward stepped down again, his boot crunching on the parking lot gravel. "Yeah," he replied, still looking at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

I turned around to go back inside, my head hung low and my shoulders slumped. This wasn't how I had expected the night to go.

"B?" he called, right as my fingers gripped the doorknob.

"Yeah?" I looked at him over my shoulder. The street lamp beside the diner made shadowy waves across his forehead in the moonlight.

"For what it's worth, I'm really sorry." He stared at me for a moment, and then turned to walk to his car. He didn't even wait for me to respond.

My feet carried me quickly to the railing where we'd just stood, the wood still warm from his hands. "Edward?"

He stopped at the sound of my voice, but kept his gaze on the street in front of the diner instead of turning around and looking at me.

"I've grown up, you know. I'm not that fragile little girl you found in the meadow that day. I'm a woman now, and I'm _strong_, Edward." I paused for a moment as he moved to face me, and I took a deep breath as his eyes met mine. "We're not close anymore, and I _miss_ you. But no matter how long we go without speaking, and no matter how many miles are between us, when something happens to you, it happens to me, too. When life throws things at me, I bend, but I don't break. You can't break either. This tabloid thing is nothing, Edward; you can't let it break you. Please," I said, my voice wavering. "_Please_ don't break."

Edward stared at me for what could've been minutes or hours, and he said nothing. Eventually, he shuffled to his car and left, just like he'd planned to. I went back to our table and spent the rest of the night in a blur.

After the clock struck midnight and I had said goodnight to my friends, I ran over to the house to change my clothes before I went over to the Cullen's. I smiled when I opened the front door, seeing Victoria's mom stretched out sleeping in Dad's recliner, the television blaring. I walked over and covered her with a quilt, wondering all the while how James could possibly sleep with all that racket.

I trudged up the stairs, holding the picture I'd ripped from the magazine carefully between my fingers. I flipped on my bedroom light and closed the door behind me, then walked over to the top drawer of my dresser and pulled out the small box I hid under all of my clothes. I pulled the top off and placed the picture over the bag that held my mother's watch before closing the box and slipping it safely back into my drawer.

After I'd put on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, I flipped off my light and walked back into the hallway, where James stood in his _Toy Story _pajamas, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"You should get back to bed, buddy," I said, mussing his hair as he yawned.

"Can I have a cup of water?" he asked, whispering like he was afraid of getting caught being awake so late at night.

"Go hop under the covers and I'll get some, okay?"

I heard his little feet pounding against the floor, the noise stopping once he'd hopped back up on the mattress. A minute later I returned with a small paper cup from the stack Dad kept by the sink, and James was sitting up on his bed, his legs swinging off of the edge.

"Get some sleep." I said, trying my most parental voice on for size. "Oh, and you should get that fake spider off of the toilet seat before your mom finds it. She'll kill you."

"I know," he giggled, before bringing the cup up to his lips and swallowing the water in two large gulps.

"You're horrible, kid. Now get some sleep."

James swung his legs up, and I tucked him in just the way he liked it; two pillows under the head, two tucks under his right arm, and his Spider-Man doll wrapped firmly in his left. He sighed as his eyes fluttered closed, and I headed to the door, eager to see Edward again.

"Bella?" James called, his voice hushed.

"Yeah?"

"Is my mom going to marry your dad?" he asked, his eyes wide and full of expectation for an answer I wasn't really sure I could give him.

"I think so," I said honestly.

"You'll be my sister then, right?"

I didn't really feel like getting into technicalities. "That's right." I grabbed the doorknob, and almost had it shut when-

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say that I think it would be really cool if you were my sister."

I smiled. "I think that would be really cool, too."

"Bella?" he whispered again.

"What?" I replied, laughing.

"Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year."

After I finally escaped James's twenty questions, I darted out to my truck and drove to the Cullen's in record time. I hardly even waited for my truck to come to a complete stop before I pulled the key out of the ignition and ran up the driveway, taking the steps on the front porch two at a time.

I opened the door without knocking, and once I was inside I saw Em, Rose, Alice and Jasper all gathered around the television playing PlayStation. Edward wasn't with them, not that I'd expected him to be. I coughed, and Alice turned away from the action, giving me a tentative smile.

_Sorry, _she mouthed, her eyes full of contrition.

_It's okay_, I replied, smiling back as best I could.

She nodded in the direction of the den, and before I had time to think about where I was going, I was already there.

I stood in the doorway and watched Edward as he sat alone, cross-legged in the middle of Esme's large Persian rug. His elbows were planted on his knees, his head resting on the upturned palm of his right hand.

His back was toward me, but he somehow managed to still look sad. I walked down the two steps onto the carpet, making my way over to the sitting area before I went to him. I leaned over the back of Esme's cream-colored love seat and picked up the guitar that lay across the overstuffed cushions. I knew from the writing on the neck that this guitar was the one that belonged to my mother. My heart warmed, knowing he still had it after all these years.

I sat down behind Edward, folding my legs as I moved until my back was touching his. His body molded to mine, all his tension melting away as I lay the back of my head against his shoulder. I moved the guitar under my arm, and then placed my fingers across the frets the way I'd learned as I positioned my hand above the strings. This year, it was up to me to bring back our tradition. His father's den wasn't our meadow, and I wasn't the broken one anymore, but once upon a time, Edward saved me when I needed him to and now it was my turn to do the saving.

I took a deep breath as I nervously began plucking the familiar chords in a disjointed tune that was recognizable, but far from perfect. I smiled as I played, realizing how ridiculous this was, and before long I could feel Edward shake with laughter.

He interrupted me, whether it was because he really wanted to talk to me, or because he wanted me to stop, I'd never know. And to be honest, I really didn't care.

"Are you...are you playing _Yankee Doodle_?" he asked, and I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was smiling.

"I'm trying to," I replied, laughing. "You're messing me up."

"Why?"

"It's the only song I have memorized from my beginner's book," I replied.

"Doesn't that song have words?"

"I can't figure out how to play and sing at the same time. Besides, I don't know what the words are. I made some up, only a couple of lines."

"Let's hear 'em," he said playfully.

"No, they're stupid."

"_Sing_, Swan."

I closed my eyes really tight before I opened my mouth and made a fool out of myself. "Edward Cullen came to town, in his mom's old Volvo..."

Edward laughed, a _real_ laugh, and the sound of it echoed across the room. It was a fleeting moment though, and silence loomed heavily over us almost as fast as the laughter had come.

"I didn't even know you were learning how to play guitar," Edward whispered, his words tinged with regret.

"It's not important," I said, shrugging. In the grand scheme of things, with all that was going on in his life, it really wasn't.

"It _is_ important, B."

"Why?" I asked softly, not fully understanding his reasoning.

"Because...it's _you_."

Edward slowly got up, careful that I wouldn't fall back, and then sat down in front of me, legs crossed. He moved forward so that our knees were touching, and I lay the guitar down next to me, my heart racing.

Edward sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. He studied my face, reaching over to brush a strand of hair away from my forehead before he spoke. "I don't know you like I used to, B. I still see bits and pieces of _my_ Bella in you, but...like you said...you're different now, and I missed all the things that have made you into the person you are because I've been gone for so long. You're familiar but you're not, and then tonight I see this stranger, this amazing woman, and..._God_, I wish I knew her."

There were parts of me Edward didn't know, but that was because he'd chosen not to get to know them. I'd called him while I was in Italy; I'd tried to keep in touch with him, but sometimes I felt like he was avoiding me, like he was using his schedule as an excuse to create more distance between us. It hurt, and I had never told him, but it was time he knew. He was my friend, and he deserved my honesty. So that's what I gave to him.

"Edward," I began, rubbing my palm along my thigh. "If you don't know me, well...it's not because I haven't tried to keep in touch with you. When I called you, you'd either not call me back at all, or you'd return my call when I told you I wouldn't be around. I felt like…I _feel_ like...like you're trying to keep a connection to me without actually having to _talk _to me. I don't know what else I can do, Edward. I've kept up my end of the bargain. Either you want me in your life or you don't. You can't pick and choose what parts of me you get – it's all or nothing."

"This is my fault," he whispered, studying his fingers where they lay on his lap.

I hesitated before I answered, because he had so much hurt on his face and I didn't want to add to it. But I wanted him back, and lying to him would make him believe it was okay to carry on with the way things were. We would never survive that. "Yes," I breathed, and I cringed when I saw the pain in his eyes. "It is your fault."

"I thought it would be better for you if I put some distance between us, B. I thought that I could...I don't know, I didn't want you to get hurt or mixed up in the craziness of my life. I wanted you to keep being yourself, and doing things you wanted to do. I though that if I wasn't around it might be easier and less complicated..."

I could see him getting flustered, but I got the gist of what he was trying to say and I wanted to put those thoughts to an end as soon as I could. "My life is better with you in it, Edward…at least, the Edward that I knew. What you need to understand is that I get hurt when you push me away with no explanation. So...the way you're trying to keep me from getting hurt _is _hurting me. It won't work that way. It _hasn't _worked that way."

"I wish I could go back and change everything," he said. "I just wanted to protect you, B, and I don't know..."

"Edward, you have to talk to me," I pleaded, folding my legs under me as I moved to kneel in front of him.

I watched Edward's Adam's apple disappear underneath the neck of his shirt as he swallowed. He closed his eyes and sighed, a long slow breath escaping from his parted lips before he spoke. "I've made such a mess, and I let you become a stranger to me. Fuck...I don't know who _I_ am anymore. Sometimes...sometimes I look in the mirror, and I don't even recognize the person looking back at me."

He opened his eyes then, so dark and weary. He looked so much older than his twenty-two years; he'd seen so much but wasn't really living, he was just going through the motions. I didn't know the man he'd become as well as I should have. But his face, the one right in front of me, was present in some of the best memories I had.

"_I_ recognize the person looking at me right now," I said, reaching over to run my fingers through his hair. "Your eyes," I breathed, slowly tracing the ridge of his eyebrow down the slope of his nose to the gentle curve of his cheekbone. "I remember the first time I saw them."

"You do?" he asked, watching me intently as I touched his face, struggling to keep his eyes open. I could feel warm puffs of his breath across my wrist.

"Yes." I smiled. "It was the first day of school. We were on the bus ride home, and Tyler had stolen my pink Hello Kitty purse and wouldn't give it back. You punched him in the gut until he submitted, remember?"

Edward laughed. "I remember."

"And then you sat down next to me," I said, letting my fingertips travel across his cheek and down the strong line of his jaw. "And you said, 'My name is Edward Anthony Cullen. Pleased to meet you,' and you gave me that crooked smile...the one where just the left side of your mouth lifts up," I breathed, my fingertip tracing the outline of his lip until I reached the corner of it. "When you're really happy, both sides lift up," I explained, moving my other hand to cup his cheek. "And your whole face brightens.

"I've known this face since I was eleven years old," I said, running the pad of my thumb along his sideburn. "I recognize every bit of it."

Edward brought his hand up to rest on my wrist, where he gently traced his fingertips along my skin to the crook of my elbow and back down again. The feel of his touch made my skin tingle, from that spot all the way down to my toes.

"I remember that day," he said, a far-off look in his eyes. "You and Alice walked home from the bus stop, swinging your lunch boxes and singing Wham! songs at the top of your lungs. The latch on your lunch box broke, and your thermos fell out-"

"You picked it up for me, and fixed it the next day after school," I said, smiling at the memory. "I thought you were the coolest kid I'd ever met."

"You spent the night at our house for the first time that weekend, do you remember?" Edward asked, his fingers coming to rest on my wrist again. I slid my hand from his face, and as I lowered my arm, Edward twined his fingers with mine.

"Alice and I had a slumber party in your living room, and your Dad built us a tent out of couch cushions and your mom's old sheets. That was so much fun." Edward and Emmett would sleep with their bedroom door open, and the four of us would spend all night sending messages to each other in Morse Code with our flashlights.

"You and Alice put on a talent show for us that night," Edward said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "Emmett pretended like he was Ed McMahon on _Star Search_."

"Oh, my God, he did!" I hadn't thought of that in years.

I frowned as Edward let go of my hand to pick up the guitar, and I marveled at how much more finesse he had than I did.

"You two had a whole dance routine to this song," he said, plucking out the beginnings of a familiar tune that didn't sound quite right on a guitar. Not that I cared, anyway.

I laughed, remembering the ponytails we wore on the side of our heads that night, along with the leg warmers and leotards we layered on. Alice smothered our eyelids in tacky blue eye shadow, and we paraded around the house feeling so pretty with blush striped across our cheeks and a little too much lip gloss slathered on our lips.

"You're not going to sing that song," I said, knowing full well that there was no way Edward's voice could go that high unless someone had kicked him in the nuts.

"I'm going to try," he said, grinning.

"You better use your Mariah voice," I warned, laughing. "And hope you don't break the windows."

Edward closed his eyes tightly, and began to sing in a horribly off-key, too-low to be falsetto voice that sounded awful. "_How did you know, cause I never told. You found out, I've got a crush on you.._."

He looked like he was having a little too much fun, and I couldn't resist singing along with him. Even though I was sure we both sounded like a couple of cats being murdered, it was the most fun I'd had with Edward in years. _This_ was how I remembered us, and _this_ was what I needed from him. I had to do whatever it took to get it back.

We only made it through one chorus before I doubled over with laughter. Edward lasted just a little bit longer before he was shaking too much to keep playing.

"I think the judges would've given us one and a half stars," I managed to blurt out while trying to catch my breath. After we'd quieted down, Edward moved back across the floor to lean against the couch and I followed suit, our chests still heaving from laughter.

"That was fun," he said, exhaling in one long, deep breath.

"You sing all the time. Isn't _that_ fun?" I asked.

Edward was quiet for a moment, contemplating his answer. "Singing isn't as fun for me as it used to be," he admitted. "But it always feels different when I'm singing for you."

"How does it feel different?" I lifted my legs up so my thighs touched my chest, and I looked over at Edward, resting my cheek on my knees.

Edward looked down at the carpet, tracing the outline of one of the complicated designs with his finger. "I can't explain it," he said. "It's just…different."

"A good kind of different?"

"The best kind of different," he said, smiling.

"Well, however it feels, I'm sure it doesn't hold a candle to the faux _Star Search_ Alice and I put on for your family," I teased.

"True." Edward chuckled for a moment, before his expression turned serious. "That night, B…I knew that night I would never know anyone else like you," Edward said, reaching over to cup my cheek gently with his hand.

"You were thirteen," I teased, leaning into his touch.

"When you know, you know," Edward insisted with a smile, running his thumb along the hollow under my eye. "Eyelash," he said, pulling his hand away, the evidence perched on the tip of his index finger. "You should blow on it and make a wish."

It only took me a second to know what I wanted. I closed my eyes and made my wish, blowing the eyelash away.

"What'd you wish for?" Edward asked, placing his hand on the carpet between us, right next to mine.

"Not a chance. If I tell you, it won't come true," I said with a grin. "And I _really_ want it to come true, Edward."

"Me too," he whispered. Edward moved his hand so that his pinky finger brushed my thumb. "I don't want you to slip further away from me, B."

"Then don't let me," I replied, moving my hand over his. I closed my eyes, thinking about how far we'd managed to come in just a few short hours, after we'd spent however many years drifting apart. I hoped he really meant what he said; I didn't want to lose him again.

We sat like that together, hands touching but not entwined, until my breathing got slower and deeper and I was right there on the edge of consciousness and dreams. A loud shout from the living room startled me and as I sat up and rubbed my eyes, I realized that I didn't want to sleep away the rest of the time I had left with Edward.

"C'mon," I said, gripping Edward's hand as I stood, pulling him up with me. He followed behind me, laughing as I led him to the kitchen.

"Does your mom have hot chocolate mix?" I asked, opening up a cupboard and standing on my tiptoes as I looked inside.

"It's on the second shelf there," he said, walking up behind me until his chest touched my back, so warm against my skin. He reached over my shoulder and grabbed the box, placing it on the countertop in front of me. His fingertips ghosted along the skin on the back of my hand before he turned and opened the cabinet next to me, removing two large white mugs.

I took two packets out of the box in front of me, and then turned to grab some milk out of the refrigerator, quickly checking the date to make sure it was still good. After I filled each mug three-quarters of the way full, I put them both in the microwave for a minute. With a bit of time to kill, I figured I'd try to get an answer to a question that'd been nagging me for the past year.

"Edward?" I asked, watching as he walked over to the kitchen table and methodically closed all the blinds in the room, the wood slats snapping together as he pulled their strings with force.

"Yeah?"

"That song you sent me last year, the one you played on the piano," I began, studying the curve of his shoulders as he froze on the spot. "It didn't sound finished. Was it?"

"No," he said, turning his head in my direction so that I could only see his profile; the strong line of his clenched jaw, and his furrowed brow as he waited for me to continue.

"Are you going to finish it?" I asked, pulling out the drawer next to me and picking up a spoon. The clang of the metal as it hit the counter echoed across the room.

Edward slowly pulled a chair out from under the table, and his face relaxed as he sat down. "Once I know how it's supposed to end. Right now, I can't tell which way it's gonna go, but it's headed in the right direction," he replied, smiling.

"Are you going to let me hear it when it's finished? You won't play me any of your newer stuff…"

Edward sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. "I'm not ready for you to hear most of my newer stuff yet."

I wanted to ask him why, but thought better of it. I turned away from him, letting the steady buzz of the microwave drown out the sudden uncomfortable silence between us.

Once the microwave beeped I took the mugs out and emptied a packet of chocolate powder into each one, watching the tiny marshmallows pop up to the surface as I stirred. I reached over and opened the refrigerator, grabbing the can of whipped cream I'd seen in there earlier. It wasn't gourmet by any stretch, but it was the way Edward and I had drank hot chocolate since we were kids.

I rinsed the spoon off in the sink, then picked the mugs up and slowly walked over to the table, careful not to spill on Esme's pristine tile floor.

Edward smiled as I set his mug down in front of him. "This is the way your mom used to make it," he said, bringing his hot chocolate up to his lips and blowing the steam across the top.

_He remembered. _

We sat in silence as we drank, enjoying each other's company like we did when we were kids.

"Do you make new year's resolutions?" Edward asked, watching me as his fingers traced the rim of his mug in slow, steady circles.

"I'm twenty," I replied dumbly, as if my age had anything to do with his question.

Edward smiled a smile so bright - one I hadn't seen in ages. "What does that have to do with it?"

"Well...nothing, I guess," I said, laughing. "I've never made a resolution before. Why do you ask?"

"I want to make one." Edward's face was serious all of a sudden, his eyes soft as he looked over at me intently. The corner of his mouth tilted up as his lips parted; it seemed like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. He looked down as he smoothed out the place mat in front of him, before moving his eyes back to mine.

"Okay," I said, breaking the silence between us. The way he was looking at me made my stomach flutter and I took a deep breath, hoping to calm it. I wondered if there would ever come a time when I stopped reacting to him the way that I did. Whenever my heart tried to move on, my traitor body always gave it a faint flicker of hope.

"There's a catch," Edward began, leaning closer to me as he rested his elbows on the table.

I leaned forward too; I wasn't sure whether it was out of instinct or need to be closer to him, but everything in me knew it was right. "What's the catch?" I asked, my voice soft, as if we were telling secrets.

"This resolution...whether or not I can keep it all depends on you."

"Alright," I said teasingly. "I'll bite."

"Good." Edward grinned. "I meant what I said earlier, about not wanting to let you slip away again."

"How does that factor in to your resolution?" I asked, taking a small sip of my drink.

"I want to resolve…no, resolve isn't a strong enough word. I _promise_ you that this year will be different. I want to get to know you again, B. I _need_ to. I need you in my life. You keep me grounded…and sane."

"Okay," I said, scared to let myself believe his words, but wanting so badly for them to be true.

"I'll be coming back home in a few weeks, but after that, my schedule is pretty full," he said, and I could tell by the look on his face that he regretted that just as much as I did.

"Oh," I said, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. "Okay."

"We can make something work, B. At least twice a week, every week for the next year, I'm going to call you. We'll touch base, even if it's only for a few minutes. Hell, I'll buy you a computer and we'll meet up in a chat room if we have to."

I laughed, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I didn't want him to see the doubt written across my face.

"Hey," he breathed, sliding his hand across the table. "Look at me."

I reluctantly moved my eyes to his, piercing green and full of urgency.

"When I walk into your dad's diner a year from now," he said, moving his hand so that his fingers came to rest in the spaces between mine. "Everything's gonna be different."

_Different_. For the first time in forever, I actually liked the sound of that. "I believe you," I said, and I smiled as the relief spread across his face.

"You think we can do it?"

"Starting tonight," I said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I think we can."

So there, in the middle of the kitchen where an almost-kiss cracked our foundation so many years ago, Edward and I talked over hot chocolate until the sun came up, and began to put it back together again.


	9. 1997

*****1997*****

"When is your lying sack of shit brother going to get here?" Rose asked as she looked over at Emmett, her eyes narrowed into thin, angry, brown slits. She looked terrifying, but somehow Emmett didn't seem so terrified.

"Leave Edward out of this," Emmett said, holding his hands out in front of him in surrender. "He didn't have anything to do with it."

I felt a thrill shoot through my body at the sound of Edward's name, igniting a heat that began in the pit of my stomach and burned fiery red across my cheeks. I looked down, hoping that no one would see; not that Rose and Em would take their eyes off of each other long enough to notice me anyway.

"The hell he didn't have anything to do with it," Rose said, her finger poking Emmett in the chest repeatedly like an angry little hummingbird. "He did this on purpose to get back at me for that Hootie and the Blowfish thing."

I turned my head, stifling my laugh into the palm of my hand. If Edward _had_ put Emmett up to this, it would've served her right. Rose was steadily morphing into the embodiment of the term _Bridezilla_.

"Sweetie, Edward isn't that vengeful." Emmett had that patronizing look on his face, the one that seemed to appear whenever he thought Rose was going overboard, which was happening quite often lately. "Well, maybe he _is _that vengeful, but I swear it wasn't him. This is_ my_ idea. I think it'd be cool."

"Emmett Cullen," Rose said, sticking her bottom lip out to blow her hair off of her forehead in one long, breathy wave. "You are not wearing a kilt in our wedding. I don't care how much you loved _Braveheart_. I let you wear those stupid Zubaz pants out in public, and I think that's compromise enough."

I fought the urge to open my mouth and tell Rose that she'd be better off letting Emmett wear a damn kilt to the wedding. Those Zubaz pants he wore all the time were ridiculous.

"C'mon, baby. Just let me try one on and show you how it looks. When you come walking down the aisle on our wedding day, all you'll be able to think about is how sexy my legs look." Emmett reached over to touch Rose's face, but she evaded him quickly, like a fighter dodging a punch.

"Em, I love you, honestly, but the only thing I'll be thinking about when I see you standing at the altar wearing a kilt is, 'Who in the hell drugged me to the point of agreeing with this?' It's not going to happen. Besides, your mother would have a conniption."

Emmett grimaced, sucking a long, hissing breath through his clenched teeth. Rose had touched on the one thing he couldn't argue with: Esme. He breathed a sigh of defeat and pulled his eyebrows together before they shot straight up, his eyes wide. "Can we do the Macarena?"

Rose squeezed her eyelids shut, breathing in so deeply that her nostrils flared. Emmett just didn't know when to stop.

"Why don't you two just go to the Justice of the Peace like Dad and Victoria did?" I suggested. "You go in, fifteen minutes later you're married, and then you have a nice dinner at the Lodge. No muss, no fuss, no kilts, and _no_ Macarena." When the last word rolled off my lips, I was suddenly scared of the way Rose was looking at me. In my hasty effort to save Emmett, I probably should've given opening my mouth a second thought.

"Bella," Rose said, giving me her best 'shut-the-fuck-up-already' face, "just because we live in this podunk little town does _not_ mean that we have to have a podunk little town wedding!"

"It wasn't exactly _podunk_," I said, avoiding her eyes. I thought Dad and Vic had a simple but lovely little ceremony. Well, until James unleashed the frogs. It got a little hairy after that.

"_Bella_," Rose sighed, rolling her eyes. She looked like she was crippled by the need to strangle me. "Your dad and Victoria are old. It wasn't a production because people stop caring about productions when they get to be that..._old_."

"It's not a bad idea, Rosie," Emmett volunteered like the thick-headed moron he was. Sometimes he just didn't have a clue. "Something with just us and the family?"

Rose ran a hand through her hair, preparing herself for another round, when she shot up so quickly the legs of her chair bobbled back and forth against the hardwood floor. "You," she said, pointing behind me. "_You_ are going to _get_ it."

The little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I turned around in my chair and stood up, not even realizing what I was doing until it had already been done. My body knew he was there before my brain registered it, and the moment I laid eyes on him, my heart began to fly. _Edward_.

I hadn't seen him in one-hundred and sixty-three days, not that I'd been counting, and I hadn't spoken to him in five. Not that I'd been counting _that_, either. Yet there he stood, all six-foot two-inches of him, right in front of my very own eyes. He smiled at me tentatively, looking so unsure, his eyes settled firmly on mine.

Almost one year ago, Edward resolved to call me at least two times a week for the next fifty-two weeks. In the end, like most people do, he broke that resolution. He started off doing so well, and then he left to go on tour, and everything went downhill. He usually managed to call me at least once a week, but when the hour got too late or when he just didn't have access to a phone, he had taken to writing to me. Letters, notes, postcards. Enough to fill three shoeboxes.

Edward promised that when he walked into the diner this year everything would be different. And as I stood in front of him, grinning like a goof as my heart tried to beat out of my chest, I knew that was a promise he had kept. Everything _was_ different.

I could feel it in the way he looked at me when I stepped forward to hug him, because I just_ had _to touch him, and I knew that he _wanted_ me to. I could feel it in the way his arms slipped around my waist, just a little too low to be friendly, and in the way he buried his head in my neck as he whispered hello, his lips brushing against the skin there. I could feel it in the way he lifted me up and held me, so tight, like he never wanted to let me go.

I never wanted him to.

"Different?" he asked softly against my ear, his question a secret between us.

I nodded into the crook of his neck as I knit my fingers through his hair, not trusting myself to say anything. We just stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other; not thinking, not speaking, just...being.

"_Finally_," he whispered, holding me tightly.

Too soon, Edward's arms loosened their grip and I came back to earth, feeling the scratchy stubble on his cheek graze the skin on mine as I set my feet firmly on the floor. My fingers fell from his hair, tracing a slow path down his jaw. From there they explored the gentle slope of his shoulder, and traveled down the length of his arm until they met with Edward's.

Edward looked at me, face red and breaths unsteady as his thumb brushed my palm, and he linked only his index and middle finger with mine, loose and casual, even though they twitched against my own, gripping and relaxing over and over again during our short walk. I looked down at our hands, and smiled through the tinge of frustration I felt. He could never just let go; there was always a bit of hesitance behind every emotion he showed. _Always_.

"Are you two done yet?" Rose asked, the toe of her boot tapping impatiently on the floor. I turned around to see her and Em looking at us, wide-eyed; Em's expression more out of shock it seemed than Rose's was. He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear which made her soften just a bit. I looked around, noticing that everyone in the diner was watching Edward and me, and I felt like I was stuck in the middle of one of those dreams I used to have where I went to school without any clothes on.

I nodded, embarrassed, as Edward's fingers slipped from mine. I hid my disappointment at our loss of contact, but seconds later I felt his hand on the small of my back as he led me to my seat. I bit my lip to hold back a smile, but then I set it free because, well, there were just so many things to smile about.

Once we were settled, Rose forgot about the vendetta she had against Edward, and started talking to Emmett about where they should go on their honeymoon. All I heard were snippets of conversation about beaches and cruise ships before I focused my attention on Edward and drowned the two of them out.

"How are you?" Edward asked, so casually, as if we hadn't just done what we did when he came through the door. Didn't he feel what I felt? How could he pretend like that hadn't been..._everything_?

I shifted in my seat, accidentally brushing my shoulder against his arm. "I'm good," I replied, mustering the best smile I could. "How are you?"

Edward rubbed his eyes and then crossed his arms in front of him, reaching toward me with his right hand. He let his fingers trace the line of my upper arm, following the folds of the fabric of my shirt there. His touch was light, like a breath across my skin.

"I'm great," he said softly, letting his eyes flicker up to meet mine for a second before he looked back down, lingering on the spot where his fingers rested.

"I missed you," I said, leaning forward and angling my head up the tiniest bit so that he could see my face.

Edward quickly dropped his hand from my arm down to the table, his expression serious all of a sudden. "I missed you, too," he said hesitantly. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but shut his mouth quickly, before the words escaped.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from spilling my heart in an attempt to free the two of us from this state of limbo. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how much I wanted him, _needed_ him. Edward was a part of me; like my lungs and my heart, keeping me alive, and I wondered I if did the same thing for him. My heart screamed with the need to be unburdened, to hear in his own words whether he reciprocated my feelings or not.

I knew that this wasn't the time; not here in front of everyone, in a noisy room where soft, tender words would have to be loud and public. Later, I would find a way to tell him, alone. Because he_ had_ to know how I felt about him, even if it wasn't the same for him.

"I broke my resolution," he said, shaking his head as if he'd committed some sort of unpardonable crime. I could see the self-loathing creep onto his face, and disappointment radiated off of his skin.

"You made up for it," I explained quickly, moving toward him so our arms touched. "Now I have words in writing that my ears would've forgotten over time. It takes more effort to write a letter than it does to make a phone call, Edward." He was always so unsure of himself, so willing to believe the worst.

He looked at me, his eyebrows raised, and the small lines of doubt that etched across his face seemed to lessen just a bit. "You kept them?" he asked after swallowing hard, his voice unbelieving.

"Of _course_ I kept them," I said, wondering why he would think that I hadn't. "I keep everything you give me." I felt the heat rise to my cheeks at my inadvertent admission, thinking of the guitar picks and ticket stubs I had stashed in my bedroom.

Edward let out a small laugh through parted lips, and he ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends nervously before dropping them to the table. He kept flexing his fingers, his knuckles white, as if he were trying to hold himself back from something.

"Why?" He turned to face me, his expression curious.

"Because," I began, bringing my hands down to my lap to keep myself from touching his face. _God_, how I wanted to touch that face. "Those things are special to me."

He smiled for a moment, the edges of his eyes crinkling before his eyebrows furrowed. "They are?"

I nodded, wondering how it was possible for him to not know, to not _feel _how much I cared for him. I thought back over everything I'd said to him during the past few months, all the things I'd done to show him how I felt without coming out and saying it. When I finally told him how much I loved him, how _in _love with him I was, I didn't want it to be in an email, or on a piece of paper. I didn't want to speak faceless sentiments through a telephone receiver. I wanted to look into his eyes when I said those words. I wanted him to _see_ me, see how true they were.

"Do you really not realize that?" I asked. My voice held a current of frustration and hurt, even though I tried to control it.

"I..." he began, flustered, seemingly unable to find the words he was looking for.

Under the table, I placed my hand on top of Edward's knee. His muscles tensed at the contact, but I ran my thumb along his jeans. He relaxed into my touch, and before long he brought his hand down to rest on top of mine. I leaned over so that only he could hear me, and once he was aware of what I was doing, he moved closer to me, too.

"Can we talk later?" I asked, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt as my ear brushed against it. "Alone?"

I felt his hand move almost imperceptibly on top of my own, and he turned to face me, our mouths just an inch apart. It took everything in me not to close that distance and just kiss him.

"Yeah," he breathed, and he squeezed my fingers under the table. "I think we need to."

And then, there was a crash.

"_Holy shit_!"

I looked over, and Jasper was midair, flying over the table with a panicked look on his face. There was another loud crash, and after Jasper disappeared I could see the backs of the chairs on the other side of the table knocking together. A second later Jasper stood up, a still-full bottle of Coke in his hand. He looked over at us and then down at the bottle, a surprised smile on his face.

"Dude," Emmett said, raising off of his seat just enough to lean over the table to get a better look at Jasper's aftermath. "That was like a real life Mentos commercial. Have you been drinking?"

Jasper put the Coke down to brush off his pants and shirt. The smirk melted off his face when he saw Alice standing a few feet away, looking like she was about to bust out laughing.

"I told you that would happen," she said, walking toward us. "You have worse coordination than Bella."

"Hey," I protested, giving her The Eye as she walked around the other side of the table.

She and Jazz settled in directly across from us, Jasper draping his arm around Alice's shoulders. I looked to the right, and Rose and Emmett were off in their own little world, whispering things to each other, holding hands. And then there was me and Edward; awkward as ever.

"So what's up?" Alice asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Not much," Edward replied, looking over at me and then to his sister.

Alice smiled this strange sort of half-smile, one that I'd known ever since we were kids. She used to give me that very same look when she knew a secret that I didn't, like what my mom had gotten me for Christmas, or when she found out that Lauren Mallory had gotten a nose job during Spring Break our senior year.

I thought about asking her what was going on, but after what happened last year, I figured I probably didn't want to know right now anyway. If it mattered, it would come out eventually.

All of a sudden, some strange force of gravity hit my chair, nearly toppling me over onto Edward's lap. I heard a sharp grunt and the slap of skin as I turned around and watched James tumble across the floor, his arms splayed out like he was on a Slip 'N Slide. _Everyone _was falling tonight.

"Aw, _man_!" James cried, his face smooshed against the floor.

I made a move to get up and help him, but before I could he'd hoisted himself on his arms like he was doing a push up, and was standing upright in no time. He looked around, indiscreetly checking to see if anyone had watched him fall. The poor kid looked spooked about something, and even though he was a huge pain in my ass, I felt sorry for him.

"Yeah, I'm all right," he said, waving me off. He brushed off his pants and straightened his shirt before walking over to a table and checking his reflection in the metal napkin holder.

"What in the hell?" I said, to myself more than anything.

My tone must've caught Edward's attention, because he turned and watched as James fussed with his hair, trying to get it just right. When he was finally satisfied, he took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out like a blowfish. He walked right over to Jane, who was sitting awkwardly in her chair, stiff as a board and trying to pretend like she hadn't just been watching him.

"He's got it bad." I laughed as my eyes followed James. He leaned on the back of a chair for a second before standing up straight. Two seconds later he leaned again, then ran his fingers through his hair.

"You should go over and help the poor kid out," Edward offered, visibly relaxed now that we could focus on something other than the tension between us. "If he keeps fidgeting like that, he's going to pull a muscle. Or ten."

"Maybe he'll pull a jaw muscle that'll sideline his smart mouth," I teased. Edward laughed; I'd told him all about James. He seemed to find the kid amusing, which was annoying to say the least. He probably wouldn't find James so amusing if _he _had to wake up to frogs in his bed and plastic wrap over the toilet.

"He's struggling, B. Look at him." Edward pointed over at the two kids.

James was sweating bullets, his blonde hair starting to stick to his forehead.

"What should I tell him?" I asked. I wasn't exactly up on my male flirting rituals.

"I don't know," Edward said, shrugging. "Tell him what girls like. That, you know, the best thing he can do is treat her right, and be nice to her." He paused for a moment as he watched James and Jane looking anywhere but at each other, and a small smile played at his lips. "He needs to figure out what's special to that girl, and find those things inside himself. Then he can..." Edward trailed off, and he took a deep breath, his knee bouncing furiously next to mine.

"Then he can what?" I asked urgently. I knew we weren't talking about James anymore.

"He can twist them together into something special. Just for the two of them." Edward's eyes were intense as they watched me.

I nodded. "There's no way she wouldn't love that," I said, my voice all hoarse and throaty. "You know," I began, reaching my hand out to touch his thigh, but I thought better of it at the last second. "Dad's always telling him that it takes a real man to tell someone how you feel about them."

Edward looked at me a long while before he said anything. "Your dad's a smart guy." His eyebrows knit together as he swallowed, his gaze shifting to my mouth.

_Please be a smart guy, Edward._ Please_ be a smart guy._

I took a deep breath. "Are you-"

"You gonna sing tonight, Eddie?" Mr. Cope interrupted, tipping back in his chair before he smacked Edward on the shoulder, his rosy red cheeks looking like two dodge balls.

Edward cringed, probably because of the slap _and_ the nickname. He'd hated it since he was a kid, but Mr. Cope always insisted on calling him Eddie. He turned his head and smiled at Mr. Cope, a man who had a soft spot for him ever since we were kids. He used to give Edward five dollars to mow his lawn every other week during the summer. On the Fridays Edward got paid, he'd give me a ride on the back of his bike to the ice cream parlor in town, where he'd always treat me to two scoops of vanilla with rainbow sprinkles on top.

"Yes sir," Edward answered, looking at me, not at Mr. Cope.

"Excellent," Mr. Cope replied, patting Edward on the back one more time before straightening up in his seat.

"Should I...do it now?" Edward asked, looking a little bit conflicted.

"Yes," I answered quickly, before the last word had even left Edward's mouth. The sooner he sang, the faster we could get out of here and we could be alone. I wanted to be alone with him so badly.

Edward looked at me for what seemed like a long time, an indecipherable expression on his face. He turned in his chair and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs as he exhaled, his cheeks all puffed out. He looked nervous, although I didn't understand why. He stood up slowly, and looked down at me for a moment before he turned, his fingers grazing my shoulder as he walked to the front of the dining room. The noise in the room died down as he made his journey, and it was so quiet that I could hear the creaky steps as he walked up to the stage. Once he was up there, Dad flicked on the lights. Edward stood for a while, rubbing the back of his neck, staring at the old guitar in its stand.

When Edward finally turned around to face the crowd, he slung the worn leather strap across his shoulder. He stepped forward toward the microphone and switched it on, a short, loud screech filling the room. Edward moved close to the edge of the stage, the diner's pathetic excuse for lighting casting strange shadows across his body, and he studied the guitar he held in his hands before shifting it under his arm and tapping against the wood body with his fingertips. That familiar look of concentration set on his face; one I'd seen countless times before as a child when my mom was teaching him how to play.

Once his fingers were positioned across the frets, Edward looked up. Not at Mr. Banner, who kept coughing repeatedly into the silence. Not at Mrs. Cope, who was furiously snapping away on her camera, the flash so bright and quick that I thought I might have a seizure. Not at James and Jane, who looked like they were about to come out of their shoes with excitement because a famous person was standing so very close to them. No, there might as well not have been anyone else in that room. Edward's eyes, fixed with so much determination, were focused solely on me.

I'd seen Edward at his worst, and I'd seen him at his best, but I had never seen him look so unsure when he was up on a stage. I smiled, hoping to encourage him, and he exhaled a long breath through 'o' shaped lips, closing his eyes as his hand moved across the strings of his guitar.

I recognized the tune right away; I'd heard it nearly every afternoon when I was a kid. I immediately thought of my mom, how graceful I thought she looked from my perch at the kitchen table, where I'd sneak glances at her when I should've been paying attention to my homework. She danced between the sink and the stovetop as she made dinner, and when Dad would come home he'd kiss her on the cheek, and they'd sing a couple of lines from that song to each other.

Just like he had the first night he'd sang to me so many years ago, Edward played that song to help me remember her, because that was such an _Edward _thing to do.

I quickly brought my hand up to my mouth to stop myself from standing up and telling him how much I loved him. To stop myself from crying. To stop myself from asking him to take me away to someplace we could finally be alone together.

Edward fumbled the notes when he saw me do that, and immediately stopped playing. He shook his head is if he were trying to clear it, breaking my gaze and staring down at his hands. He thought hard about something while he stood there, everyone in our small town watching his every move.

A murmur of confusion loomed over the crowd as the din of their voices filled the room. I turned to look for Dad and found him leaning against the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips and his eyes shining. He winked at me, and then his gaze moved to the stage, where Edward was lifting the guitar strap over his head.

"I'm sorry," Edward said, leaning in towards the microphone. "I can't do this."

He put the guitar back on its stand so quickly that it bobbled, a sound amplified throughout the room by the microphone. He didn't even bother with the stairs, he jumped straight off of the stage onto the floor, and he'd covered the ground between us in just a few quick strides.

He stopped in front of my chair, where I was sure I was looking up at him with my mouth hanging wide open, looking like a fish. He stared at me, not bothering to notice the crowd and the way everyone's eyes were on us - I knew they were, I could feel them. He just held out his hand and said, "Do you wanna get out of here?"

I didn't answer him; I just sat there, staring at his hand that was right in front of me, shaking ever so slightly. I could feel my pulse behind my eyes and hear the rush of blood in my ears as my nerves started taking over, making my breathing faster and my heartbeat more intense. I couldn't move my hand to take his. I couldn't move anything.

"Go with him, Bella," Rose commanded, lightly kicking my leg. "Don't just sit there,_ go_."

I could almost see every centimeter my hand moved as I sluggishly placed it within his grasp. Our skin hadn't even been touching for a second before he pulled me up on his own, barely waiting until I had my footing to start walking. Once I'd caught up with him, he twined our fingers together from pinky to thumb, like two sides of a zipper coming together.

Edward held his head up high, looking straight ahead as we zigzagged through the tables and out the front door. I didn't even bother to grab my coat or my bag, because I just wanted to follow him to wherever it was he was taking me.

We hurried through the parking lot to his car, kicking gravel up in our wake. I smiled when I saw that he was still driving his mother's rusted-out old Volvo, even though he could've bought a thousand replacements. That car was just so...Edward. He walked me around to the passenger side door and opened it, the squeaky, rusty creak of the hinges filling the silence around us.

I moved to get in the car, but Edward caught my wrist, turning me so that I was facing him, my back against the hollow door opening. His hands moved up across my shoulders to my neck, where his thumbs gently rubbed the skin across the curve of my cheek. He'd done that before. That area was familiar territory for him, but he had always been wiping away tears, stealing away sadness.

There would be no sadness tonight.

"You look so different," I said, reaching up to smooth my thumbs lightly over his eyebrows until my hands drifted down and rested on his cheeks. I moved my fingertips to trace his jawline, down to his chin. Edward closed his eyes as I touched him, and I studied the way the lines of his face made him look like a man. A man who was _living_. "You look...so happy." _Finally _happy.

"You look," Edward began, twisting a tendril of my hair around his finger. "You look...like _home_."

I felt like everything inside of my body rose up into my throat in this weird sort of panicky frenzy. But I wasn't panicked, I just couldn't believe this was all finally, _finally_ happening.

"Edward, I..." So many feelings, so few words. I closed my eyes and his head dropped down slowly until his forehead was touching mine. My hands slid over his cheeks to clasp behind his neck, and I was positive he could feel my thundering heartbeat through my fingertips.

I heard someone cough to the left of us, and I opened my eyes and turned my head slowly. There, on the front porch of the diner, stood half of the patrons, with the other half crowding the windows, making a dark curtain of shadowy faces. I laughed, wondering if this was what Edward's life was like outside of Forks; everyone watching, waiting. I wondered if this was what my life would be like, too, if-

"All right, all right, that's enough. Give the kids their privacy," Dad said, shooing half of our neighbors and friends back in through the front door. The people in the window were still watching, but they filtered away one by one, leaving only one person standing there.

Rose had her hand up against the glass of the window, the biggest smile I'd ever seen plastered across her face. I gave her a small wave and she stepped back, lifting her hand up once more in a signal we'd used during our early days as roommates, letting me know she'd make sure no one went to the Cullen house anytime soon.

_Thank you_, I mouthed, watching as she turned away.

"Get in," Edward said excitedly, his hand moving down the side of my neck, and I brought my own up to meet it, holding on to his fingers until I sat down.

As Edward ran around the front of the car I saw my dad, still standing on the porch, smiling at me. It was a smile I'd seen countless times as a child, which had reemerged since he'd been with Victoria. He was happy. He waved at me before he turned to go back inside, shutting the door and closing the window shade behind him.

Edward plopped down in the driver's seat, slamming the door so hard the car shook. He hesitantly reached for my hand again after he'd started the ignition, but his fingers merely brushed mine before he gripped the steering wheel tightly and pulled out of the parking lot.

We were quiet on the way to the Cullen house, and I sat, twisting my hands in my lap, wondering why Edward seemed to keep second-guessing himself all night. I wanted to reach out to him, but I didn't. I only looked at him once as he drove, his eyes focused intensely on the road in front of us. The engine groaned as he pushed his ancient car as fast as it would go, which could never be fast enough.

Edward smiled at me as he came to a stop at the end of his driveway, the brakes of the Volvo whining with a high-pitched squeal. He hopped out of the car with inhuman speed and opened my door, taking my hand and pulling me out before we ran together up the Cullens' porch steps and through the front door.

I'd thought about versions of this moment countless times before, and I always figured I'd be nervous, but I wasn't. Part of me knew what he was doing, and the part of me that wasn't sure loved him enough to trust him.

He led me through the dark, quiet house to the very back, into the music room Carlisle and Esme had built on years ago. I hadn't been in there in a long time, and when Edward switched the light on I was surprised to see that all the instruments that used to be there were gone; only a large, black-lacquered baby grand piano remained. Esme had painted since the last time I'd visited. The once white walls were now a rich taupe, and there was a console table a few steps away from the piano, which held a few books and other small decorations.

Just as he had last year in the kitchen, Edward went around the room and closed the blinds quickly. Once we had our privacy, he took my hands in his and walked backwards toward the piano.

"Can I play something for you?" he asked with a smile, sweeping his thumbs across my knuckles.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice shaking. My mouth felt so dry, and I was hot, like I'd just run a marathon.

He moved the bench and sat down, pausing for a moment to look at the sheet music after he placed his fingers in the correct position on the keys. He stared at the notes in front of him for a long time before he looked down at his fingers, and then back up again. He hesitated, the way that you do before you tell someone a secret that's going to change both of your lives. Then he looked at me with soft eyes before he began to play.

I'd heard this song for the first time two years ago, and had played the CD on repeat until it had nearly worn out. It was the same song he'd asked me to listen to that year he couldn't come home, the one I told him I loved but wished I'd known the ending to. As I watched his hands fly across the ivories, even though I knew next to nothing about music, I could tell that he was more sure of himself now. I knew this melody by heart and some parts had changed, so minutely that no one else would've noticed it, but I did. His strokes were deliberate, and the notes were defined; where there once was confusion there was now free-flowing beauty.

As the cadence began to change from wistful to carefree, I moved forward just a bit, so curious to see the name of the song was he was playing. The title gracing the top of the left page, written in the same neat handwriting he'd used to write in the journal he'd given me, made my breath catch in my throat. It was the same title I'd found in that notebook of his in the bottom of the charity box, and my mind swam as I began to realize what that meant. It was in that moment, that moment between the panic I felt when I realized how much time we'd wasted, and the hope of how much time we still had ahead of us, that I knew he loved me as much as I loved him. I _knew_ it. I heard it. I felt it. I'd never been more sure of anything in my life.

Edward bowed his head as the song ended, the notes light and lovely. His fingers didn't move from the keys, and he kept his eyes closed, almost like he was afraid to look at me, to see my reaction. But he stood up in an instant, and closed the distance between us in two long strides. I hadn't realized that I'd moved back against the table while he played, but I felt the smooth top beneath my palms. I was sure that table's support was the only reason I was still standing upright.

Edward said nothing at first; he just ran his fingers down the length of my arm before enveloping my hand in his own. He brought it up to his lips, gently kissing the back before he rested his cheek along the skin there.

I swallowed, trying to help my voice to work. "You finished it," I said in a whisper.

Edward nodded, his eyes boring into mine.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.

He reached up and brushed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. "It's you. It's...the way you make me feel. The way you've _always_ made me feel."

I reached toward him, resting my hand on his hip as I hooked my finger through his belt loop. I pulled him closer to me, so close our chests were almost touching, and I could feel his breath against my hair. I closed my eyes against the threat of tears, and struggled to find the right questions to ask, the right words to say, when Edward admitted that he struggled, too.

"There were lyrics," he explained, "but nothing I came up with was ever...pretty enough, or strong enough, or real enough to say...to put into words all the things that I feel for you."

I knew that feeling all too well, and I found myself suddenly jealous of the way he could express himself with his music. I felt every bit of love he had for me in the air around me as he played that song, and yet I was bound by useless words. How do you explain to someone that they make you feel like you've fallen off a cliff, twisting around helplessly in the air, upside down, plummeting toward earth? How do you express the comfort, the absolute _certainty_ of knowing that even though they're the one who pushed you over that edge, who made you fall, that they're the one who will be waiting to catch you?

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked, sniffling, feeling his breath cool the trail of the tear making its way down my cheek. I wanted to be so angry with him, and part of me was, but I'd never been brave enough to lay my heart on the line, either.

"Because," he said, running the tip of his finger along the outline of my lips, "when I realized it, you had given your heart to another boy, and then...I gave my heart to my dream." The only sound in the room was the long, hollow breath I exhaled between us. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. "But B," he continued, cupping my face with his hands. "Now...now I want to _be_ that boy, and you _are_ that dream. I've wasted so much time..."

My heart flew at his admission, and I reached up and brought his hand to my lips, kissing each finger right above the knuckles. Fingers that played such beautiful music; fingers that set my skin on fire with the lightest touch. Fingers I wanted to feel across my body, oh, _everywhere_.

"I am?" I asked. Such a stupid thing to say in such an important moment, but they were the only words that would come.

Edward sighed and moved back just a bit to rest his head on my shoulder. Then in one quick, fluid motion, he grabbed my waist and lifted me up on top of the table, parting my legs so he could move closer, and I was up so high we were almost eye to eye.

"I can't even remember when I started loving you. I just looked up one day and it was there, and it goes back as far as I can remember. It's filled my whole life, B. I tried to move on-"

_Move on_? "Why?" I interrupted, trying not to sound desperate. "Don't you want-"

"What I want..." he said, his voice tight and full of struggle. "Everything I want is wrong for me to have. It's wrong for me to want you to love me, but _God,_ do I want it. I want it more than anything, and that makes me the most selfish-"

"Why?" I couldn't understand what he was saying; the words, they didn't make sense. If he really felt the way he said he did, how could anything be right if we weren't together? How could he not want that too?

"Because...what can I give you? A few phone calls and a visit every month or two? Some magazine spread with an autograph? I'm this commodity, and once everyone is done taking what they need from me, all that's left are these bits and pieces that don't make up a whole person. But every bit," he said fiercely, pounding his hand on his chest for emphasis, "every last piece of me that's left belongs to you. It's wrong for me to ask you to give me all of yourself when _I'm_ only half a person."

"It won't be like this forever," I tried to reassure him. "Besides, that half of you knows me better than most whole people do," I said, wanting to be comforting, needing him to believe. "And you don't have to ask for what's already yours."

He looked at me, his hands moving from my knees to my hips, holding onto me so tightly that I thought he must feel like I was anchoring him to the earth.

"I love you, B," he whispered, his forehead against mine. "I'm in love with you. Say you feel it." He moved closer. "_Please_ feel it too."

Edward smiled, threading his fingers through my hair, his thumbs resting by my ears as he brought his face closer to mine. Our breaths were the only sound in the room; ragged and nervous, urgent and shared. He leaned over and gently kissed my right cheek, and then my left, and I felt my eyes sting when I realized what he was doing, as if taking us back to _that_ night, the night when everything changed, could erase everything that had come between us in the years since.

I brought my hands up to grip his arms, because Edward made me feel like my world was spinning, and whenever I needed someone to hold onto, it had always been him. It would always _be _him.

"I love you," I whispered to the space between us. His forehead was resting against mine, and I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"Say it again." His voice was soft, pleading. "Please…say it again."

"I love you, Edward," I whispered. "I've been in love with you for_ so_ long."

I felt his promises on my skin, his lips so close, but still not touching me. He stood there, one last bit of hesitation that was so palpable I could almost push it from between us. I knew what he was fighting, but his mouth was _right there_, and all I could think about was what it would feel like against mine.

I leaned toward him the tiniest bit, and his top lip touched mine, our breath mixing together. It was everything I'd thought about for the past few years, but nothing like that at all, because everything was confusing but made sense at the same time. I moved forward the little bit it would take to taste him, because I had only felt like this once before, and tonight would have a different ending.

I tilted my head to brush my lips against Edward's, the softest of touches, the most innocent kiss. Edward pulled away, breathing a hushed moan across my skin before pressing his lips to mine carefully, but with more urgency than before. My nose scrunched up beside his, and I breathed in the clean, soapy smell of his skin, loving the way the roughness of his chin contrasted with the smoothness of my own.

Our lips parted and I tasted him for the first time; all warm, soft mouth and heated breath and peppermint. Edward's hands knit through my hair, cradling my head as he pulled me closer to him, so close I thought I might disappear inside of him forever. I ran the tip of my tongue along his bottom lip before gently sucking it between mine, and Edward made this low, needy, breathy grunt, and even though I'd never heard anything like it, I knew I would do whatever it took to hear it again.

I hitched my leg up over Edward's hip before wrapping my other leg around him, locking my ankles together and bending my knees forward, pulling Edward even closer to me, as if all the love and want in the world could give me enough strength to hold him there; to keep him with me forever. The sudden movement knocked him off balance, and the table slammed back against the wall. Edward righted it quickly, smiling against my lips as I gripped his shirt, wanting to get closer, and needing to hold on.

I heard something shatter against the floor or the wall or somewhere beside us, and I couldn't be bothered to tear myself away from Edward for long enough to look. It was strange then, stuck in that moment I'd been thinking about forever, because I'd never felt so many things at one time.

Sure, I'd been kissed before. I'd touched and made love to men who were right, but not perfect for me; men who were almost, but not enough. And even though I'd been as close to them as I could be, fingers fumbling over heated skin, frenzied kisses from fingertip to fingertip, and bodies wrapped in ecstatic breaths, those fingers and kisses and breaths could never_ be_ enough, because they didn't belong to Edward.

As his soft lips moved against mine, wanting and waiting, pushing and hesitating, I had never felt closer to anyone in my entire life. I'd never felt anything sweeter than his mouth on mine, his breath fanning across my face between frantic, needy kisses. And as his fingers explored my neck, collarbone, and traveled the distance from my shoulders to my waist, I knew that with Edward, there were a thousand sweeter feelings just waiting for me to find them.

"I want you," I said breathlessly between soft kisses and delicate touches. "However I can have you."

"You have me, B," Edward breathed against my cheek. "But this won't be normal. I'll make it work but...you just have to know that. You've seen the lies people have written about me, and they'll write more about you now, too. I don't want any of that, but God help me, I can't hide this anymore. I _won't_ do it, but..." His voice sounded so sad, but there was hope, and that bit of hope I heard warmed my heart.

I nodded, knowing that his words were meant as a warning that we couldn't be conventional. He wouldn't be around so much, and we wouldn't be able to do some of the things that other couples did. But I chose to hear that warning as a promise. A promise that he wouldn't let this relationship go by the wayside like all my other ones had. All the other ones had ended. I wanted this one forever.

"I know," I replied, pressing my lips against his. "I just...I love you." I kissed his neck. "I need you."

Edward was definitely not like all the others. Edward made me float, so high, and he let me see things I never thought I'd see before. Sometimes he floated up with me, always there to keep me safe. But whenever things got out of control or scary, one of us would always be down there on the ground, anchoring the other. Edward was pushed every day. Pushed to succeed, pushed to spend time, pushed for more, more, more. And when someone had pushed him too far, and he was standing there ready to fall, I would be the one to pull him back to solid earth.

No, this wouldn't be like the other relationships I'd had. This was Edward. This was _us_. All the others were just placeholders. This was permanent.

"Edward?" I asked, once his lips left mine.

"Hmmm?" he hummed against my neck.

"Why did you choose that song tonight? At the diner?" I thought I knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it. As much as I understood him, sometimes his mind worked in the most mysterious ways, and that was one thing I wanted to understand, especially after everything we'd admitted tonight.

Edward pulled back until I saw his face, a sad kind of smile playing on his lips. "You remember that song?" It wasn't so much like he was asking me, more like he just wanted to make sure that it was true.

"Of course I do." It was one of those things that I could never forget.

"Talking about James and his little girlfriend tonight reminded me of it…in a weird way. In several weird ways, I guess."

"What do you mean?" I asked, curious.

Edward paused, his grip on my hips tightening. "Remember when your mom first got sick?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes."

"There was always this time, this empty space between when our lessons ended, and when you'd come downstairs to do your homework. I didn't want to leave, because I always just liked being around her, you know?"

I nodded, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I understood that feeling completely.

"I'd sit at your kitchen table, watching her as she got ready to make dinner. It used to be a quiet time. I'd sit there and pore over the sheet music she'd given me for the new song I was trying to learn, or I'd just watch her, because...because she was just so different from my mom. Once she got sick, I stuck around more often, maybe because I knew our time together would be short, I don't know.

"It got to the point where she'd stand there, chopping vegetables and stuff, she'd say things like, 'Bella likes to have cherry popsicles when she has a sore throat. The twin pops, not the single ones,' and 'Bella gets sick when she reads books in the car. You can't ever let her bring a book in the car.' Completely random stuff that I thought maybe she was trying to remember, or that felt good for her to say out loud."

I smiled, because Edward always remembered the best things, the happiest times. When I was with him, when he talked about her, I felt like she was just in the other room, not years away, her memory stowed away in songs and pictures and things that would never, ever be _her_. Edward brought her back to life.

"It took me forever to figure out why she did that, but over the last few months I finally began to understand," he said, his fingers brushing the skin between the hem of my shirt and the waist of my pants. The feeling made my whole body tingle.

"Why did she do it?" I asked.

'Because I think," he began tracing a small circle on my hip, "she was trying to teach me how to take care of you when she wouldn't be able to do it anymore."

I nodded, smiling at the sweetness of his words, because that sounded like something Mom would do.

"And the song?"

Edward smiled. "When you came down in the afternoon and spread your homework out on the table, you used to watch her, too. And when your dad would come home, he'd always walk up to her and put his arm around her waist, and say-"

"_Love me tender, love me sweet. Never let me go_..." I sang it more out of reflex than anything, in a horribly off-key way. But I felt like a piece of my childhood was given back to me right then, and I wanted to keep it forever.

"And your mom would sing, '_You have made my life complete, and I love you so_.' Then he'd kiss her cheek and they'd whisper to each other. You always got this dreamy far-off look in your eyes when you watched them do that," he explained. "I figured whatever it was that went through your mind then had to be pretty special, and I just wanted to give that back to you. I...I wanted to be the one to make you feel like that."

"I always wanted to have that," I told him, remembering all the dreams I'd had as a kid, when I'd replay the stories my mom told me about how she felt when she'd met Dad. 'You'll meet a boy who sweeps you off your feet one day,' she told me, 'and nothing will ever be the same again.' I wondered then if that boy would make me feel the way she looked every afternoon when Dad walked through the front door.

Edward did.

"You wanted me to remember," I said, running my finger along the edge of one of his shirt buttons.

"I promised you I'd never let you forget her," he said into my ear, the rough stubble of his chin scratching my cheek.

He did promise me that. On a bench in his back yard that seemed like a lifetime ago, when I wore a purple chiffon dress among a sea of black, and my world had just crashed down around me. That promise was my lifeline. Even then, when I hadn't even realized it, _he_ was my lifeline.

"That's why I sang her songs to you."

My heart skipped a beat. Her _songs_? My panicked thoughts went back as far as I could remember. Was that what he'd been doing? "It is?"

"Well, yeah," he said, looking down at his hands. "That first one she always sang to you, and then that James Taylor song, she sang while she was washing dishes a lot..."

My God, he was right.

"...The Jackson Five song-"

I gasped, remembering. "She sang it on karaoke with your mom at her birthday party that year. "Your dad filmed it - that was the tape that had your grandparent's fortieth wedding anniversary on it - the one Emmett recorded the Super Bowl over." Esme had been so upset when she found that out.

_I_ was upset that I had forgotten so many little things. I guessed that trying to make yourself remember everything about a person was bound to make a few things slip away.

Then it hit me. That Jackson Five song had been meant for _me_ that year he brought Angela home, not her, and in that moment I felt like it would be impossible for my heart to hold all the love I felt for the man in my arms.

"I love you," I said, because I just _had_ to, as I gripped his collar and pulled him down to me. I'd never find anyone else like him, and I could never let him go.

"I love you, and...I'm scared," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I'm scared I'm gonna mess this up. It would _kill_ me to mess this up, B." He kissed me gently.

I wanted to promise him that everything would be okay, that we'd always, always find a way to work things out. But that was a promise I couldn't keep, because I was scared too. I didn't know what it would be like once he left the protective bubble of our hometown. So instead of making promises into the unknown, I offered him the only thing I could.

"We'll work things out, you and me. We'll love each other. We'll be scared together, and the rest...well, we'll just take that as it comes."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist until his body collided with mine, and I kissed him then; warm mouths moving with all the pent-up longing in the world, and quiet words of love whispered in the air between us as our hands explored each other's bodies.

As Edward and I got wrapped up in each other, all disheveled clothes and unruly hair and lips on skin, I showed him that we had something that couldn't be broken no matter how many days or miles separated us, and that what we had between us could stretch as far as we needed it to as long as we believed it wouldn't break.

That night, we kissed through minutes, and hours, and years. And we believed.


	10. 1998

*****1998*****

"_I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're not ever gonna keep me down_..." Emmett slapped his hands against his thighs in rhythm to the imaginary beat, and each time his skin smacked denim I came closer and closer to smacking _him_.

"Em, if you don't shut up, I'm going to shove one of these Beanie Babies up your ass." Annoyed, I forcefully pushed a curtain of hair out of my face before I pulled out one of the plastic storage bins stashed under my dad's workbench, and nearly broke the top in two as I ripped it off. "Where in the _hell_ is that bag?"

"Why can't she just get another-"

"Because she wants hers!" I snapped, sounding just like James when he had one of his tantrums. I sat back on my heels and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling, hoping to release some of the tension I felt cramping my muscles and clouding my brain. This wasn't about a stupid song, and it wasn't about Emmett's horrible singing, and it most certainly wasn't about a ridiculous knitting bag.

I hadn't been myself the past few days. I felt like the _real_ me was floating in the air somewhere, and I just couldn't reach high enough to bring her back down. Whenever I got close, she just drifted further and further away. "I'm sorry, Em, I-"

He cut me off quickly, and took a step forward to wrap his arm around my shoulders. "I understand," he said, his voice full of empathy. "I'd be upset too. I know how much you were looking forward to that trip."

"It wasn't the trip so much, I just..." I paused, trying to control the wavering of my voice, because I sounded _so_ pathetic. "I just wanted to be with him. It's..."

"Yeah," he said, giving me a squeeze. "Life has real shitty timing."

I let out a small, breathy laugh. "Or really great timing. If I had gone off with Edward and Victoria's mom had had her heart attack while I was gone-"

"Then Rosie or I would've come and helped your dad out. It's as simple as that."

I smiled, deciding it would probably be best not to bring up the week he'd spent trying to bus tables at the diner during his senior year of high school. By Friday, Dad had replaced nearly two sets of dishes.

Emmett let go of me and reached out toward the stuffed animals carefully arranged on the shelves in front of us. "These things are called Beanie Babies?" he asked, flipping the toy frog's little red heart tag around his finger. As he stood back, he examined the small stack of them. "Why the fuck do you have so many of these?" he asked, as if he'd just managed to realize they were there. Emmett kneeled down and let his eyes wander across the shelves of plush, brightly-colored fur before pulling another toy out. "Stretch the Ostrich? The _hell_?"

"Don't touch that!" I cried, slapping his arm. "My dad will have a fit if they aren't all just..." I paused, fanning my hands across the expanse of his collection, "just..._so_."

"Wait," Emmett said, his face brightening and a smile playing at his lips. "Stop the truck. These," he asked with a grand flourish of his hand, "belong to your _dad_?"

I cringed, knowing how upset Dad would be if word got out that he was a Beanie Baby connoisseur, so I went into quick damage control mode.

"Well," I explained, "they're not _his_ per se. He sells them on the internet." I sucked in a sharp breath through my clenched teeth, because I wasn't sure _that_ explanation sounded much better. Oh well, it didn't matter; it wasn't like I wanted to be having this conversation anyway. I just had to find Nana Martin's knitting bag and get the hell out of here.

I sighed, closing my eyes and wiggling my arms and fingers in an attempt to release my stress. Missing Edward was such a strange thing to be stressed out over, but sometimes it seemed like I felt his absence more than I felt his presence. Each time he left me I felt a small cloud over my head, and when he was with me it got smaller, until it almost disappeared. _Almost_. Over time though, the cloud stopped shrinking the way that it used to. A little bit of it was always there, reminding me just how much I missed him, all the time.

"The internet?" Emmett asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "You can _sell _things on the internet?" Without waiting for my answer, he shuffled over toward Dad's desk in the corner of the room, then plopped down and spun around, his weight causing the old thing to creak pitifully.

"Yeah." I closed the tote I had been looking in and sat back on my heels, scanning the room for any other spot that bag could be hiding. I knew how particular Victoria's mom was about her things, and I remembered seeing James running around with it down here the last time she came to visit, because he liked to use her big knitting needles as makeshift swords. "He goes to this website called eBay. They have auctions, and-"

"You can have _auctions _on the _internet_?" Emmett asked incredulously. He was dumbstruck, and he looked as if I'd just told him the NFL was a figment of his imagination, or that chocolate didn't really exist or something.

"There's more than just porn out there, you know," I teased, feeling some of my good humor being brought back to life. I stood up and pulled a box down from on top of a small cupboard, still not finding what I was looking for inside.

"That's what Rosie tells me," he said with a smile, flipping up the corner of a magazine that sat on top of a pile of Dad's paperwork. "Maybe one day I'll check it out." Emmett slowly turned to look over at me. "Is the diner in trouble or something?"

"No," I scoffed, wondering how he came to that conclusion. The place was packed nearly every night. "Why would you think that?"

"Oh." He looked ashamed. "I just thought maybe he was doing this for the cash flow. I mean, if he needed help, I have a lot saved-"

"No, Em," I said, putting my hand up so he wouldn't finish that thought, even though I had to smile at his generosity. "That's sweet of you, but I think he just wants to take Victoria on a vacation. They didn't get to have a honeymoon or anything, so..."

Emmett nodded as he stretched a rubber band across his two index fingers. "I got ya. Does he sell a lot of stuff?"

"I think he _would_, if he could just learn to let go of it," I explained, rummaging through yet another box full of crap.

"What do you mean?"

"Some of these suckers are hard to find, and my dad gets it in his head that they're more valuable than they really are. He gets his mind set on getting a high price for them, and then…he sabotages himself."

Emmett chuckled. "Self sabotage, huh? Sounds like someone I know."

"Yeah," I sighed. The corner of my lips curled up at the indirect mention of Edward, and for the first time all night, my heart didn't ache.

"So, if they're so hard to find, how does he get them?" Emmett stretched the rubber band and it snapped, falling onto the floor in one sad, limp piece.

"He's got some kind of deal worked out with one of the diner's supply guys. I don't know exactly what it entails, but Dad lets the guy eat here for free."

Emmett sat up straight as a rod, gripping the chair's armrests. "Holy shit, Bella. _ Holy. Shit_."

I knew what he was thinking. "Em," I said, shaking my head, "he used to be the _Chief of Police_. He wouldn't do anything illegal."

"Your dad is...like...the Beanie Baby mafia overlord of the Pacific Northwest," he said, laughing. "The Vito Corleone of Forks!"

I threw an old, musty pillow at his head. "Did you come down here just to get on my nerves?" Despite Emmett's attempts to make me laugh, there was a knot in my stomach that was slowly building with tension, ready to snap. I wasn't sure if that tension was going to be released in tears, or when I punched something or some_one_. I sighed heavily, threading my fingers through my hair and holding the strands tightly in my grip.

Emmett, good guy and great friend that he was, got up from Dad's chair and walked over to me. I released my hair from my hands and rubbed my eyes, and I watched his feet until the toes of his shoes almost touched the toes of mine. He reached over and pulled me to his chest, and I buried my head against him as I hugged him back.

"I know it's hard," he said, lightly tugging on a strand of my hair that fell down between my shoulder blades. "It's hard for him, too. Believe me. I _know_."

I nodded. If _anyone _understood, it was him and Rose. The two of them had helped me out more than they would ever realize.

Then, Rose's voice rang out from the top of the stairs. "Are you two coming up here anytime soon, or are you building a fallout shelter down there?"

I pushed away from Emmett, smiling at him, and he patted me on the shoulder.

"Baby, you've got the only fallout shelter I need," Em said, wagging his eyebrows as he turned toward the steps.

"Gross," I groaned.

"Jesus, Em. Do you have to be so crude all the time?" Rose said, her laughter at odds with the annoyance in her voice.

Em winked at me before he pounded up the stairs, and as I followed him up, I could see him lift Rose and twirl her around, her high-pitched squeal filling the air around us. For the first time since the two of them had been together, I felt a flood of envy flow through me so strong that I thought it probably could've turned my eyes as green as Edward's.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Rose asked, swiping a stray lock of hair off of her forehead.

"Nah," I said with resignation, flipping the light switch so roughly that the sound of it echoed down the stairway before I quietly shut the door.

"What's with this stupid maze of hamster crap?" Rose asked, pointing to the Habit Trail that took up the far corner of the living room.

"Oh," I said over creaking floorboards as I walked toward the kitchen. "James asked for one of those hairless Mr. Bigglesworth cats for Christmas. The hamsters were the compromise."

"That kid is so freaking weird." Emmett leaned over and tapped on the hamster cage. "I love him."

"C'mon," I said, walking toward the front door with Rose and Em in tow as I pulled the hood of my jacket up over my head. "Let's get back."

The three of us walked across the long field that separated my house from the diner, and I half-listened to Rose and Em's conversation. I caught a few words, but the rest flew by me like paper airplanes. I stared down at the black ground as we moved, my hands shoved in my pockets, thinking of Edward.

Once we reached the diner, we made our way through the back end of the kitchen, and when I turned the corner I saw my dad standing in front of the telephone. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he waved me over frantically, like he was trying to put out a fire.

Rose and Em walked into the dining room, and when I got to my dad, he put his hand on my shoulder, continuing whatever conversation he was having with whoever was on the other side of the phone line.

Dad laughed, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Alrighty, Edward. You take care now. Here she is."

Dad put his hand over the receiver and mouthed, '_It's Edward'_ as he handed it to me, like I hadn't just been standing there listening to his conversation. I shooed him away, the butterflies circling around in my stomach like crazy, the way they always did whenever Edward called. _God_, my heart was thundering in my chest.

"Hi," I said in one long, dreamy kind of sigh as I twisted the phone cord around my finger.

"Hi," he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. _Oh_, how I missed that smile, the way those perfect pink lips curved over his teeth, and the little dimple that showed up on the right corner of his mouth; the one that you could only see if you got close enough, like it was put there just for me. I missed the feel of his mouth on mine, and the way his lips felt against my skin. I missed the weight of him on top of me, the way his body moved in tandem with mine-

"Are you there?" he asked, amused.

"I'm here," I said, smiling. It was so easy for my imagination to get going, especially when he was so far away.

"I wish you were _here_," he replied, and all traces of the easiness he'd had were gone.

I swallowed, feeling my throat tighten. Even though it was a short trip, I hadn't been able to go with him like I'd hoped. He'd been home for a couple of days at Christmas, but he'd missed Thanksgiving and my birthday, and almost everything in between. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I refused to be _that_ girl; the ball and chain sitting at home, always making him feel like he wasn't doing enough, being enough, or just plain _good_ enough.

"Yeah," I said, hearing the disappointment in my voice. I tried to recover quickly, adding a falsely cheery, "but you'll be home soon." That was my standard issue recovery line, one I used so often that it seemed the words had begun to pile on top of me, making the weight of them almost unbearable, adding just a little bit more of a burden every time they left my mouth. There was a low hum on the line, and I heard the murmur of voices in the background. "Where are you?" I asked.

He paused for a second, and I heard the muffled sound of what I thought was probably his hand covering the receiver. When he came back on the line, I still heard the hum, but the voices were gone.

"I'm in my hotel," he said. "We just got to Chicago, and I've got the suits with me."

I smiled for a moment, thinking of how ridiculous Edward looked with the entourage of people he always seemed to have surrounding him when he traveled. "Sounds like fun," I said glumly. _Stupid traitor voice._

If Edward noticed, he didn't let on. "Aro got _so_ hammered last night," he said quickly, before I had the chance to get another word in.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning my head to the side. My father stood at the end of the bar watching me as he absentmindedly dried a mug with his plaid hand towel. When his eyes met mine, he gave me a half-smile and scooted over just a bit, as if that tiny movement would hide the fact that he'd been listening to our conversation.

I turned back around to give my full attention to Edward. If I wasn't going to get to see him tonight, then I wanted to make the most of what conversation I_ would _get to have with him.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice lower. "He stood on top of a table singing a Backstreet Boys song, and he used a rolled-up towel like a boa. It was hilarious. I got video of it – I'll show it to you when I get home."

I laughed at the image of Edward's buttoned-up manager getting loose after a night on the town, singing karaoke while standing on top of a table. Edward filmed nearly everything he did on the road over the past year. He said those videos would help him relive his glory days when he was an old man with a beer gut and male pattern baldness.

Edward let out a relieved sigh on the other end of the receiver. "That's what I've been waiting to hear."

"You've been waiting to hear Aro sing karaoke?" I teased. Two more days…I'd see him in _two more days_.

"No," he replied, chuckling. "I've been waiting to hear you laugh."

"I'm sorry," I said honestly, fully aware of how down I'd been sounding. I had just been so looking forward to our first New Year's _together _together. It was an anniversary for us. He wasn't with me, and he should've been. "I'm just-"

"I'll come home to you soon," he said, his voice tender. "You know there's nowhere else I want to be."

"I know," I said. I_ did_ know that. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind. "I just…I_ miss_ you, Edward. _So_ much. It's only been a couple of days, but it's like…it feels like it's been so much longer." I swallowed, feeling the ache in my throat loosen just a bit. I was surprised I was able to speak through it.

"I'm going to make it up to you when I get back," he said, the smile creeping back into his voice. "To your lips," he said sweetly, "because you know how much I love those. And then that spot on your neck that makes you make that sound. And then I'll pay special attention to your b-"

"Edward!" I admonished in a whisper, turning my head a bit to see if my dad was close enough to hear, even though I hoped Edward would keep going. My face was so hot, it probably could've melted the whole ice machine.

"I think I'll be keeping you to myself for a few days. Hell, maybe until it's time for you to go back to school," he said, his voice full of promises.

If he only knew how much I looked forward to _that_. "You just need to get here first. We'll worry about what happens after…well, after."

"All I can think about," he said, his voice heavy and quiet, _so_ quiet. "Is the way it feels when you touch me."

"I think about that too," I said softly, cupping my hand over the receiver as if it could keep my secret. My cheeks burned. "But my dad's like, ten feet away, and…"

"Mood killer," he teased. "I'm sorry, I just got carried away."

I knew all too well what that was like. "I...I wish you could've kept going." I used to be shy about telling him things like that, but when he was gone, sometimes we had to use words to do what our hands usually did.

Edward was quiet for a while before he finally spoke up, his voice all earnest playfulness. "Know what B?"

"What, E?" I grinned, because I could practically see him cringing from here. Edward _hated _nicknames, no matter who it was that gave it to him.

"_There ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no valley low enough, ain't no river wide enough, to keep me from gettin' to you_..." Edward could barely finish the first line of the chorus before he burst out laughing.

"You're such a cheeseball."

"You love it." There was just a hint of playfulness left in his voice, before a short silence fell between us.

"I love _you_," I replied, because I needed to say it, and I needed this phone call more than he would ever know. Then again, maybe he _did_ know, because he loved me, and that's just the kind of guy he was.

"I love you too, but..._Dammit_. Shit, B, I've gotta-"

"I know, I know. You've gotta go." _Two more days, Bella. Two more days._

I could hear Edward's sigh on the other end of the line. "I'll talk to you soon," he said, and before I could answer I heard the click of the receiver.

"Happy New Year," I said to myself, before turning around and hanging up the phone gently. Placing my elbows on the counter, I rubbed my eyes with my palms. I shook my head and breathed slowly and steadily, hoping to relax. This reaction was ridiculous. It wasn't like I was never going to see him again.

I felt a hand glide across my back, and before I could turn to see who it was, Dad was resting his chin on my shoulder. He tugged my arm gingerly, turning me around to face him.

"Here sweetie," he said, setting a glass of water on the counter next to me before rubbing my back once more and stepping away from me completely.

"I'm okay," I said. My face felt hot, and good Lord, would I cry _every_ New Year's Eve? Dad picked up the glass of water and handed it to me, and I drank it all in three long, thirsty gulps.

I plunked the glass down, and my dad was looking at me sternly, but with worry in his eyes. He opened his mouth, and I prepared myself for what was coming, because he'd been on the verge of saying _something_ the past few days, I could tell. But he pursed his lips as quickly as he'd opened them, and said nothing.

"I'm okay, I promise," I said, trying to reassure him. I smiled, but my lips were unsteady. "I couldn't find Nana's knitting bag." I hoped that would change the subject.

"That's all right. You gonna be here until closing?" Dad asked, taking the glass and setting it on the bar behind him.

"Yeah," I replied. That was the reason I was here, wasn't it?

"Carlisle had the staff at the hospital bend the rules for Vic. You know she's going to be there until they kick her out." Dad grinned. I knew he loved Victoria for her tenacity. "So...I'm really going to need an extra pair of hands tonight."

"Okay." I held my hands up in what I meant to be a helpful looking gesture, but I was sure it looked like surrender.

Dad smiled and looked over my shoulder, into the dining room. "I think I've got a handle on this for a bit. Why don't you go spend some time with your friends before we get slammed?"

I nodded and stretched up to kiss his cheek before I turned and walked toward the dining room. Once I was there, I took my seat at the same table I'd sat at with my friends for as long as I could remember. Sure, the faces changed, and some years there were more of us than others, and some years were more dramatic than others, but I always felt safe here. I felt safe with _them_.

Emmett and Rose were chatting about something, so I leaned back in my chair and let them be, letting out a long breath as I looked around the place. The paint was chipped in all the places that it had been years ago, and everything looked the same. Same chairs, same tables, same jukebox, same floors.

Some people thrived on change. Alice and Jasper, they were rarely home. They spent their time traveling and exploring the world together. I knew Alice got her sense of adventure from her parents; they were always going here and there, late in life jet-setters now that their kids were gone.

Me? I loved Forks. There was something comforting about going to the drug store and having the pharmacist who had given you cough syrup as a child help you figure out what medicine you needed to help ease your sinus pain. I loved the fact that nothing changed here, that every time I walked into the diner it looked like it had when I was a kid, and that the same people I served when I worked here during school breaks had been served by my mom when she was alive.

There was a deep connection between the people of Forks, a sense of community that made me feel like I was part of something, even if it _was_ small and kind of quirky. And for as many times as Rose had referred to Forks as a podunk little town, she and Em still came back to visit at least twice a month.

I was lost in my thoughts when James moved to stand in front of me, with all the swagger and authority of an adult; legs parted and feet planted firmly on either side of my feet. His eyebrows creased as he examined me closely before he spoke.

"Did he hurt you?" He crossed his arms across his chest, and the look on his face, well, I'd only seen it once; when some little kid at the elementary school had tried to pick on Jane.

"What?" I asked, not really sure which 'he' James was referring to.

"I saw you in there with Dad," he said, looking pointedly toward the kitchen before glaring at Emmett.

Emmett, for what it was worth, was enthralled in our little conversation. He leaned forward on his elbows, crossing his arms in front of him as he looked at James with amusement.

"His _brother_," James said, nodding toward Emmett. "Did he hurt you? You looked like you were going to cry. I swear I'll punch him if he made you cry. _Right. In. His. Face_."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. James's little hands were all balled up in angry fists, just waiting to strike. For all the mischief that he caused, he could sure be one hell of a sweet kid when you got right down to it.

"You should do it anyway, kid," Emmett teased, slinging his arm across the back of my chair so he could tap James on the shoulder encouragingly. "Edward could use a good ass whooping, and you look like just the guy to do it."

James looked confused for a second before he regained his menacing demeanor, his lips pursed and his young face set seriously.

Rose smacked Emmett on the arm. "Don't go giving him any ideas. And don't use that language in front of the kid."

"Whooping?" Emmett asked, confused, as Rose rolled her eyes at him.

"That's sweet of you, Jamie," I said, smiling as he cringed at my nickname for him. "But I think I'll be all right." I brushed his too-long hair out of his face and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. He scowled at me, wiping the evidence away furiously with the palm of his left hand.

He ran off, and it seemed like he barely gave my problems a second thought once he reached Jane, who had been giving her attention to some kind of keychain thing all night long.

"That was cute, Bella," Emmett said, smiling at me in that dopey way he was so good at.

"What?"

"Just...the way he treats you. He loves you." I half expected Em to drag out the 'o', to say that James_ loooooooooooved _melike he always did when he would tease Alice about marrying Eric Yurkle. "He needs a haircut though," Emmett said, turning around to watch James and Jane, who were now sitting at one of the tables on the other side of the room, seriously discussing something that I was sure had to be detrimental to both of their pre-teen lives. "He looks like one of those Hanson kids. But it was cute how he wanted to go all Mike Tyson on Edward's ass. That would've been one hell of a fight."

I followed Emmett's gaze to see James looking frustrated as Jane interrupted their conversation to pick up that toy she'd been playing with. What in the hell _was _that thing?

"What in the hell _is _that thing?" Emmett wondered loudly, pointing in their direction. "She can't keep her hands off of it."

"It's a Tomagatchi," Rose said, examining her manicure, like she'd just said the sky was blue or that water was wet or something.

"A what?"

"A Tomagatchi. It's some kind of video game pet. You have to feed it and take care of it and stuff," Rose explained, leaving the two of us looking at her stupidly, wondering how she knew so much about toys all of a sudden. "It beeps when it needs something. That's probably why she keeps picking it up."

Rose noticed our stunned stares, and gave us both an annoyed look as she said, "What? I watch the news - I know what's popular." She looked down quickly, and I wondered if the news was really where she'd learned all of that from.

"I have to see this," Em said, pushing his chair back before he stood up and walked over to the kids. Rose and I turned around to watch the action, and Emmett pulled up a chair next to Jane and leaned over, obviously asking her about her toy. Jane's face lit up and her arms started flailing as she talked to Emmett animatedly. James sat sullenly with his head resting on top of his folded arms.

"He's good with kids," I said, turning my head to look at Rose. I'd never heard them discuss the possibility of having children, but my heart warmed when I saw the way she looked at Emmett and Jane as they played.

"Yeah," she said, her voice sounding so far away and dreamy even though her face was anything but.

"Rosie!" Emmett yelled, holding his hand up high as the pink keychain dangled from his large finger. "You'll never believe this. It shits!"

I tried not to laugh as Rose rolled her eyes at him, but I could tell she wasn't mad. "He's lucky I love him."

"Bells!" Dad called, motioning at me from the bar.

"That's my cue," I said. Rose caught my wrist before I got too far, and when I turned she gave me a hopeful grin. "He'd rather be here, you know."

Of course I knew that. Edward had said it. Emmett had said it. Now Rose was saying it. If concern were a tangible thing, they all would've wrapped me up in it tonight.

"I know," I said, giving her the best smile I could manage before I headed to the bar to help my dad.

Way after midnight, when the entirety of Forks had trickled out of the diner, and Dad had left me alone to carry a groggy James to his bed for the night, I closed up shop. When I'd wiped the last table and put up the last chair, I threw my apron in the sink, turned off the lights, and locked every lock and chained every chain.

I ran across the field to the house and continued upstairs, my feet pounding against the wooden steps, loud as a freight train. Halfway up I remembered James, and I carefully quieted, hoping that I wouldn't wake him.

I walked straight to my closet and pulled an overnight bag down from the top shelf. I unzipped it and laid it on my bed before I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a few pairs of underwear and some socks. A pair of pajamas, two pairs of sweatpants and three t-shirts later, I turned and looked at the small bag, hoping it would hold everything I needed it to.

I'd just about managed to get everything stuffed in the bag when-

"Going somewhere?"

I turned, and there was Dad leaning up against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

"Just over to Edward's," I said, hating the thought of this conversation every time we came close to having it. I'd spent the night there countless times, and Dad knew that Edward stayed with me in Seattle, but the overnight visits weren't something he liked to talk about. He never really commented though, since he'd done the same thing when he was dating Victoria. I knew he didn't like me being over there alone and Edward really didn't either, but the house had a security system and Edward had bought a dog, just in case something happened.

Dad walked a few steps into my room, stopping briefly at my bookshelf. He ran his finger along the edge of a picture frame there before he picked it up. A sad kind of smile was etched on his face as he ambled over to the end of my bed, holding the photo in both hands once he sat down.

"I saw Lauren Mallory at the Thriftway yesterday," he said, his eyes firmly fixed on the picture.

"Yeah?" It wasn't like my dad to look so sentimental, or to sit on my bed for a chat, or to talk about Lauren Mallory.

"She's pregnant with her third baby, did you know that?" he asked, turning the picture frame around in his hands, back and forth and back again.

I shook my head. "No." I hadn't really spoken to her since I graduated from high school.

"Twenty-three years old," he muttered, more to himself than to me, I gathered.

"Dad, what-"

"You, Newton and Yorkie," he said, gripping that frame as if he were holding onto it for dear life. "Three kids out of _twenty-five_ in your graduating class. _Three_ of you went to college."

I sat down next to him, my shoulder bumping his as the old bedsprings squeaked. I couldn't figure out where this conversation was coming from, so I leaned over and rested my chin on his shoulder, wondering what on earth was going through his mind that had him so troubled.

"You deserve more than three babies at twenty-two and a cart full of cereal and diapers in a Thriftway, Bella," he said, as if all of his hopes and dreams were hanging on the end of that sentence. "Think about that before you go making decisions about your life, about school..."

"Wait, what? Dad, I'm not quitting school." I mean, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of taking a year or so off after last semester. I'd considered doing that after I graduated instead of diving headfirst into my Masters, but I figured that with Edward on the road, it was as good a time as any to hunker down and get it done. But I never considered_ quitting. _

"Thank God," he said, bringing his hand up to his face and smoothing the edges of his mustache down with his thumb and index finger. He was pressing so hard that I could see the whiteness of his fingertips and the strain on his skin.

"What made you think I would do that?" I asked, curious. Edward would sooner have his vocal cords ripped out than stand by while I quit school to follow him around the world.

Dad rested his elbows on his knees. "You've been kind of testy the past few days."

I nearly snorted. Testy? That was one way to put it. I'd been a whiny, miserable bitch, and even I knew it. "I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have acted the way I have been, I just...I'm not myself lately. But thanks for being so nice about it," I said.

Dad nodded, and smiled so big that the edges of his eyes crinkled. "I understand, Bells."

"Still," I said. "It's not your fault Nana had a heart attack, and when you need my help Dad, I always want to help you. I should've been better about it, and I really am sorry."

"Apology accepted." Dad leaned over and kissed my cheek. "You should've seen how much you changed just from that one phone call. That boy opens his mouth, and your whole face lights up."

I smiled, because I had never realized how true that statement was. "Well, I love him."

"I know you do, baby. But...is it always like this when he's away?"

While the first part of the year had been a little rocky with Edward's schedule and mine, we'd managed to spend most of the summer together. It was just over the past few months, when most of our conversations had taken place over telephone wires and emails, that things started getting rough.

"No," I said honestly. It usually wasn't this bad. Maybe it was just because I was here in Forks, without the distraction of schoolwork, that everything seemed magnified. I didn't want to let myself believe that our relationship really could be as difficult as Edward had led me to believe, and maybe the time I'd spent at home was giving me too much time to ruminate on it all.

Dad nodded, his face intense. "He treating you well?" I could tell by the tone of his voice that it was a question he'd been wanting to ask for a while.

"Of course he is," I said, almost defensively. Someone could question a lot of things about our relationship, but no one could _ever_ doubt that Edward treated me well.

"Mmmm," Dad hummed, that sound he made when he knew something was fishy. He'd drag it out really long, as if it were some kind of timer, and he'd give me until the end of it to finally spill the truth. When I didn't, he asked, "Then why did you look like you were about to cry earlier?"

"I told you Dad. It's hard being apart, and I miss him," I said, immediately feeling foolish for complaining about missing someone to a man who had lost his wife. I was the lucky one - I would get to see Edward again, I just had to wait a little while longer than I'd anticipated. Dad's loss...that was _forever_. I'd lost Mom too, but it wasn't the same. It was just as big and life-changing, but it was nowhere _near_ the same.

"I'm familiar with that feeling," Dad said, a sad smile playing at his lips. He was far away, I could tell by his eyes, and I wondered if he thought of those times often (the happy ones before he was a widower and father to a motherless daughter), and if he ever let himself imagine the way things might've been if Mom were still here with us. I could never ask him that though, because it wouldn't be fair to either of us, or to Victoria and James, who, no matter what, were our family now.

"It's stupid to feel this way," I said, needing to qualify what I was about to say. "I have no right to complain. I _love_ Edward, Dad. Down to my soul, with everything I have, I love him. There's no question about that, but..."

"But what?" Dad asked, reaching over to brush a strand of hair off my shoulder.

"I never thought it would be possible for me to love him so much and still be so...so lonely." I looked down at my hands as they twisted on my lap, and I felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted from my shoulders. "I mean," I quickly added, "I'm _happy_ with Edward. I _want_ Edward, I just thought...I don't know, he warned me that it would be like this, but I thought if I loved him enough that I wouldn't feel alone while he was gone. I thought that I could wait for him. I mean, I _will _wait for him..." I paused and huffed. "I'm having a hard time saying what I mean..."

Dad chuckled as he wrapped his arm around me, tucking me into his side. He leaned over and kissed my forehead, and his mustache tickled me. "I know what you mean, sweetheart."

"You do?" I asked hopefully. I hadn't ever confided in anyone about this. But I was lost in all kinds of feelings and with all kinds of conflict inside that I wasn't sure I should be having.

"Just because you're lonely and this relationship isn't going the way you want it to right now, doesn't mean that you love Edward any less," Dad said, smoothing my hair back. "In fact, I think it shows maturity. You recognize that something is wrong, and now you can start trying to fix it."

"I just...I feel like nothing _should_ be wrong, you know? I have Edward, and he's not perfect, but he's perfect for me, and I feel like everything else should be perfect. Why can't everything just be perfect?" I asked with a breathy laugh.

"Oh, Bells," Dad said, leaning his cheek against the top of my head. "Just because you're stupid in love doesn't mean that it's easy. It's hard to love someone, to make things work."

Logically, it made sense. But my heart, my _heart_ wanted the ideal. My heart wanted everything to fall magically into place.

"You weren't going to say anything to him," Dad said, able to figure that much out on his own.

I shook my head against his shoulder.

"What, did you think he was just going to figure out what was going on?"

I shrugged, because I wasn't really sure what I thought. "I don't know what I was expecting. Everything feels right when we're together."

"That career of his is a big obstacle," Dad said. "Do you worry that he's, you know..."

"No!" I trusted Edward more than anyone, and as unsure as I was about some things, I was always sure about _him_. "Edward would never cheat on me, Dad."

After a long silence he asked, "You don't feel like you can tell him that things aren't working the way they are now? Is that what the problem is?"

"I feel like it would be wrong for me to say something," I admitted. "Before we started this whole thing he told me our relationship wouldn't be normal, that things between us wouldn't be like they would be if I were with someone else."

"Smart kid."

"He wanted me to know what I was getting into. And now that I'm in it, I can't say, 'Sorry, I know you warned me, but this isn't working for me right now.' How would that be fair?"

Dad laughed. He was doing that a lot tonight, and I was beginning to wonder if I was being as ridiculous as_ I_ thought I was being. "Bells, let me ask you this. You love Edward. What do you want for him more than anything?"

It didn't even take me a second to answer. "I want him to be happy."

"Don't you think he wants that for you? Wouldn't you want to know if he wasn't happy?"

"Yes," I sighed. "I just don't want to hurt him."

"How do you think you'd be hurting him?"

"I don't want him to think that he's not enough for me. I want him, and I want him to have his dream, and I want to follow mine. What if that's too much to ask? I just feel like I have _everything _to lose."

"Bells," Dad said, reaching beside him to pick up the picture frame he'd been holding earlier. I smiled when I saw Edward's profile, smiling at me as I smiled at the camera. A waiter had taken it on Valentine's Day, before our romantic dinner had been interrupted by autograph seekers and camera flashes. We left early to go back to our hotel, and I spent the rest of the night with my skin sliding against his, pressed between Edward's familiar body and an unfamiliar bed.

"Look at this boy," Dad said, pointing at Edward in the photograph. "He's looked at you like that since you two were kids."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like you're carrying his whole world around in your pocket." He smiled as he handed the frame over to me. "I used to look at your mother like that. You don't _lose _those people, Bells. You have to get rid of them." He laughed, and I wondered exactly what he was thinking about just then. "Edward would follow you anywhere. He'd burn all the pianos and guitars on this earth if it meant he could be with you."

I felt a sudden warmth from Dad's words. "I would never ask him to do that."

He pressed a kiss to my temple. "That's what gives you two a fighting chance. But _you _have to be willing to fight for it. Nothing in this world worth having is easy to keep."

I smiled. "Wanting him around more, doesn't that make me kind of...needy? I mean, we're talking about his career, Dad. He's worked hard for it."

"What about _your _career? You're going to school, and you're so smart, baby. You're _so_ smart, and you're working toward your goals. Haven't _you_ worked hard, too? I know he's probably got enough money in that bank account of his to buy the whole town of Forks ten times over, but you don't want to rely on him to support you-"

"I don't want him to support me," I said, sounding kind of indignant. This wasn't about Edward's bank account or my diplomas. This was about _us_. People. Edward and Bella. "I just don't want to be that clingy, needy girlfriend, Dad."

"Asking someone for what you need isn't _needy_, Bells," he said patiently. "It makes you human. It makes you...it makes you all grown up." His voice was wistful, but proud somehow.

I nodded as his words sunk in, feeling a little more confident now that someone had reassured me that I wasn't out of line for feeling what I was feeling. That confidence made me confess something that I didn't think I would ever tell anyone, not even Rose.

"Sometimes I buy those stupid tabloids he hates. Not to see what they write about him or me, or to check up on the gossip they're spewing about us. The photographers who take those pictures see him more often than I do. I flip through them when we're on the phone together, because when I hear his voice and see his face, it doesn't seem like he's so far away..." My voice trailed off, because I was afraid I was going to cry, and all of this soul-baring was going to wind up being too much for my dad to handle in one evening, I could tell. "I know that sounds so sad-"

"That _is_ sad Bells, but not in the way that you think. You need to tell him-"

"I know," I said, because there was no point in complaining about anything unless I was willing to take a chance to change it.

"When's he coming home?"

"Day after tomorrow," I answered, snuggling into Dad's side a little more, because I could tell our conversation was almost over, and we never had talks like this anymore.

"You're just going to go and stay at his house all alone?" No matter how old I was, twelve or twenty-two, Dad would never stop being my dad.

"Carlisle and Esme are out of town, so the dog is at Edward's. I need to let him out, and I don't want him to spend all day in the house alone."

Dad's lips pursed, but he nodded. "Well, all right. But don't think for a second that I won't drive out there to check up on you."

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could speak I heard a small cry coming from James's room.

Dad shook his head and took a deep breath. "Damn nightmares."

"You shouldn't have let him watch _I Know What You Did Last Summer_." I laughed as he rolled his eyes at me, knowing this wasn't the first time he'd gotten heat about _that _mistake.

"Drive careful and you call me if you need anything. Make sure you park that truck in the garage."

I smiled. "Okay. How 'bout I come over tomorrow? You can make me lunch or something."

Dad chuckled. "I'd like that." He stood up and shuffled over to the door. Once he reached the doorway, he turned, his arm resting on the left hand side of the trim as his fingers drummed slowly across the wood there.

He grinned, his eyes soft. "I love you, Bella."

"I love you too, Dad."

When I heard the gentle creak of James's door and the hushed murmur of my dad comforting him, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the house, shutting the lights off behind me as I slowly made my way out the door.

In the driveway, I smiled when I saw the glow of the moon reflecting off of the shiny red paint on the hood of my truck. I opened the door, no longer creaky and rusty, and got in, the smell of new leather permeating the air. I breathed it in as I ran my hand against the smooth bench seat before I put the seatbelt on, a new three-point version that Edward had installed during the restoration. The engine turned over with a smooth purr, completely different from the pathetic rumble I'd been used to since I was sixteen.

As I drove down the old roads I knew as well as the back of my hand, I thought about Edward, and my trusty, old, dependable truck. He didn't try to strong-arm me into some new car that I wouldn't like, just because he could. He got the truck restored for me for Christmas, because he knew how attached to it I was, and because he wanted me to be safe.

Edward always took the things that I loved, things that were _me_, and he made them better.

I drove past the driveway of the Cullens' house, the bright light at the end of the drive the only indication that there was anything there beyond a dark, rarely-traveled road. About a hundred yards away, I pulled up a similar driveway, flanked by a gate and security lights.

Wanting to have a home to call his own in Forks, Edward bought Dr. Gerandy's old place over the summer, a house that held so many memories. When we were kids, Edward, Emmett, Alice and I used to walk the trail that joined the Cullen house with this one. Mrs. Gerandy had been confined to a wheelchair, and we'd come over to keep her company, partly because she was a nice lady, and partly because she always kept her candy dish stocked to the hilt. She and Dr. Gerandy never had any children of their own, and they always welcomed us.

While Dr. Gerandy corralled the boys outside to do manly things, Mrs. Gerandy used to tell Alice and me romantic stories of when she and Dr. Gerandy had met just before the second World War. She'd show us the old letters the two of them had written each other when Dr. Gerandy was fighting in Europe, unsure when or _if_ they would ever see each other again.

Alice and I would walk home, dreamily weaving our own perfect love stories through our imagination, hoping that one day we would be just like the two of them, old and still crazy in love.

See, what Dr. and Mrs. Gerandy had done was _real_ sacrifice. Theirs was _necessary _distance. Edward and I, we had it easy, if we could just stop making everything so hard on ourselves.

My headlights lit up the garage doors as I hit the opener, easily maneuvering my old car to fit right next to Edward's new one: shiny, silver, and definitely _not _his mother's rusted-out old Volvo.

I could hear furious, anxious scratching against the door, and I smiled as I pressed the button next to it to shut the garage.

An annoying beep rang through the house as I opened the door, fumbling against Edward's overexcited dog to punch in the alarm code. Edward didn't like me being alone in the house without security, even though we were pretty much left alone while we were in Forks. The outside world, though, that was a completely different story.

"Hi, buddy," I said, smiling as Buster turned in circles, trying so hard not to jump up on me. I kneeled down and petted his head as he squirmed and whimpered beneath my hands. "You need to go outside?"

Ah, _outside_. The magic word. Like a bolt of lightning, Buster ran up the stairs, and I lagged behind him. I unlocked and slid the door open, and he darted off into the night, setting off the motion-sensor lights that Edward had installed along the perimeter of the yard. Given that the dog could easily run around back there for hours, I headed to the bathroom to change into my pajamas.

When I came out, I stretched and blinked my eyes, not feeling tired even though the clock on the microwave read two twenty-four AM. Hoping some tea might make me sleepy, I shuffled over to the sink and filled the kettle with water, placing it on the stove and turning on the burner before I walked to the living room to turn on some lights.

I stood in the middle of the lit room and looked around, marveling at how different a place could look and still_ feel_ the same. Of course, the floors were half sanded, a project Edward worked on whenever he had a few days home. And the built-ins that once held stacks and stacks of medical journals were now home to awards and plaques. But this place felt like Edward. It felt like _us_.

That was probably because like so many places in this small, wonderful hometown of ours, this house held a small piece of our history, of our love, wrapped up inside of it like a locket.

I opened the sliding glass door right off of the kitchen, and stepped out onto the deck as I watched Buster run in uneven rounds along the perimeter of the yard, and my eyes focused on the swing in the far left-hand corner. A simple plank of weather-worn wood, it was held above the ground by two long pieces of braided rope, bound to the sturdy, twisted limb of the ancient-looking tree.

That tree had been in this backyard for as long as I could remember. I closed my eyes, thinking of the rare sunny summer days when I sat on that very swing, twisting the rope around and around in circles until it was wound so tight that it spun me like a top when I lifted my legs. And even back then, the boy who grew into the man that I loved hung around in case I fell, or just needed a little push to get going.

I remembered Edward so clearly back then. I could see his face, the light dusting of freckles across his nose, and his crazy summer hair which stuck out in every which way so adorably. I remembered the last time we'd come to visit, right before Mrs. Gerandy got sent to the old folks' home in Port Angeles.

"_Want a push?" Edward asked, standing up to wipe the dirt off of his pants, since he'd spent most of the afternoon just sitting next to me in the grass. _

"_Sure," I said, turning my head to look him. The day was bright, and the way the sun shone behind Edward, he looked like a silhouette instead of a person._

_He pushed me gently at first, and then faster and faster, until I soared so high the tips of my toes cleared the tops of the trees._

"_What do you think about airplane pilots?" I asked as I whooshed by him, seeing a flash of red as he bit into an apple._

"_I don't, really." I could hear the crunch as Edward laughed at me. "Why?"_

"_No reason, I just...I think it'd be kind of a neat job." Going anywhere you wanted, seeing the earth from so high up...that seemed like a dream to me, the girl who had never left the state of Washington in her whole life._

"_I s'pose." _

"_I bet they get to fly all the way to China for free," I yelled, pumping my legs in and out, trying to get higher without his help. "It'd be pretty rad to go anywhere you want to. And just knowing how to fly..."_

"_Well, you don't really get to see those places, B. You fly to them, but then you have to fly right back out. Don't you like it here in Forks?"_

"_Sure, I like Forks just fine. I just want to see what other places are like, that's all. Like, is there a malt shop on a street corner in Chicago?"_

"_Of course there is," Edward laughed. "But you know how Mr. Berty knows that you like your ice cream a little melted so that the sprinkles make rainbows at the bottom of the dish?"_

"_Yeah," I yelled, still going back and forth, back and forth._

"_The people in Chicago, they don't make it their business to know that stuff. They don't care about you, they just give you your ice cream." I waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. He just kept pushing and pushing until I'd had enough flying._

"_You can stop now," I said, my voice all small and angry._

_Edward stood there as I slowed, coming lower and lower with each pass. When I came to a stop, he sat down on the grass, his long, spindly legs stretched out in front of him as he tossed that apple up in the air between bites._

_I was quiet as I shuffled my feet below me, wondering how I could feel so high one minute, and so low the next._

"_B?" he said, squinting at me in the sunlight._

"_Yeah?" I answered, making a figure eight in the dirt with the toe of my sneaker. _

_Edward waited for me to look up at him before he spoke, his smile so big that I could almost see all of his teeth. "If you have your heart set on flying, I think you should. You would make a really great pilot."_

It was then that I noticed that Buster had run up to the fence, and was barking his head off. I walked over to the side of the deck and leaned over as far as I could, and I saw the familiar-looking grill of my dad's truck, its headlights illuminating the yard. I shook my head and smiled, because I figured he'd at least wait until tomorrow to get all overbearingly protective.

"Dad, you didn't-"

I turned and opened my eyes and there _he_ was, like a ghost or something magic that appeared right out of thin air, and my stomach dropped and my nerves woke up all the way from my head to my toes. I stood there and watched him for a second, like my brain was just convinced I'd imagined him, and it was waiting for something to prove it wrong.

And then he smiled that smile. _That smile_.

I flung myself at Edward faster than he could blink, and I knocked the wind out of him when my chest collided with his. I breathed his breath and I tasted his taste, and I felt all of those things that only he could make me feel as my legs wrapped around him and my arms pulled him to me so close, _so_ close, so _close_.

"You're here, you're here, you're here," I repeated between claiming his lips with my lips so many times I lost count.

"Surprise," he whispered against my ear with his hot breath and scratchy skin and his kisses like exclamation points along my collarbone.

Edward's hands gripped my waist, and I buried my face in his neck as he told me he loved me over and over again.

"I wanted to show up at the diner to surprise you," he said, his fingers tangled in my hair and his mouth grazing my ear, and his breath kissing my cheek. "I thought that would be romantic as hell. I tried to get to the diner before midnight, but my plane got delayed, and then I went to your house, but you weren't there and I just _had _to be with you, B-"

I silenced him with a kiss. And then another, and another, until I didn't know where he began and I ended. When we were like this, all needy lips and wanting hands and chests pressing and heaving, so lost in one another, the entire world could've fallen away and neither one of us would've noticed. We could've been standing in the kitchen still, or in his bedroom, or in the middle of the street. I didn't even know or care, because he was here, he'd come home, he'd needed to see me as much as I needed to see him, and he'd wanted to make sure we were together on_ our _day, and _oh God_, he'd have to leave again, and we needed to make the most of this time, and-

Before I could process it, everything changed. My hands were no longer touching him, they were gripping him. My arms were no longer holding him, they were tightened like a vise around his shoulders, and I was hanging on for dear life. My tears were wetting his skin where my lips had been, and I was so glad, _so_ glad he'd come home, but he _couldn't_ just _go _again for weeks and months at a time.

He didn't ask me what was wrong, because I suspected that he already knew. Edward could read me like a piece of sheet music, and he knew my moods. So, instead of offering me reassurances, he just held me in the quiet of his kitchen in the early hours of a new year, because he knew I needed to be held, and kissed, and touched, and that I needed him to be the one holding, and kissing, and touching me.

Too soon, the kettle blew, and the dog wanted in, so Edward let me go as I slid from his body until my feet touched the floor. He kept one arm around my waist until he couldn't reach me anymore. He turned off the burner and removed the kettle, and I opened the door for Buster. When we were finished, Edward lifted me up onto the countertop, his lips brushing my cheek as he leaned over to pull down a mug from the cupboard behind me.

He poured the tea in silence, and once he'd added some milk to it, he stirred, and handed me the cup. I brought it up to my lips and blew, the warm swirl of steam kissing my skin, and I swallowed, as if the tea was somehow going to give me the courage to say what I needed to say. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, not sure if I was ready to jump or not. But I knew, deep down I knew that if I didn't, I would eventually wind up being pushed when I didn't have a choice.

I wanted to have a choice. I _did _have a choice.

So I put the mug down, and I took his hands in mine, watching my thumbs stroke the thin, bluish veins on the backs as I gathered my thoughts. When I was ready, I squeezed his fingers and looked him in the eyes. And I leapt.

"I don't want to do this anymore." When I saw his face fall, I knew the words had come out all wrong. "Not _this_," I said, reaching up to touch his face and brushing my thumb across his bottom lip. "The being apart, the distance. I know I said we could work through it, but...I can't, _no_, I _don't want_ to keep doing this, to keep living like this." My voice was wavering and Edward had the strangest look on his face. Not anger, not sadness; something I couldn't place.

"I could take some time off of school, but-"

"That's not an option, B," Edward said, cutting me off. The strange look on his face was replaced with something different now. Complete and utter determination.

I pressed my finger to his lips gently, to shut him the hell up so I could just finish what I was saying. "As if I would _ever_ let you tell me what to do, Edward Cullen," I said, feeling my lips quirk up into a smile. This wasn't turning out to be as hard as I thought it would be, and wasn't that always the way it went? Edward smiled back, but kept his mouth shut as I continued. "I _could_ take some time off of school, but...I don't want to do that, and I feel like I'm limited as far as what I can do to take some of the pressure off, to make this work somehow, and-"

"B, you don't have to do anything," he said, his smile so big now that it lit up his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I asked, wondering exactly where this conversation was going, since it really wasn't turning out the way I'd planned _at all_.

"I'm not happy," he said, moving closer to me, tracing the pattern on my pajama pants with his finger. "I haven't been for a really long time. When I first started out I thought it was just because I was homesick, and even though I would feel better when I was home, I still wasn't _happy_. And then I thought I was just lonely, and...well..."

I could tell he was uncomfortable, because we'd obviously reached the point in time where Angela Weber entered his life. "Yeah," I said, not wanting to revisit this again. "I know."

Edward looked up at me, squeezing my knee before he continued. "Then I thought I was just missing you, and that it would get to a point where I would learn to deal with it. I...I figured it would always be there. Getting up and performing stopped being fun. It was a chore, and I thought that maybe I was just carrying around too much emotional baggage, because everything was just so_ heavy_.

"And then last year, when I _finally_ told you how I felt about you, I thought I had let all of that go, and that I could just..._breathe _again. B," he said, sliding his hands up and down my thighs. "All those bits and pieces of me that everyone's taking, I realize now that I'm just spread too thin. Too thin to be good for _you_, too thin to be good for _me_. I want to take a step back and do something that I _love_, not just something I signed a contract for.

"I always have to be _on. _When I perform, when I'm out in public. I'm _on _more than I'm _off_ these days, and I don't like the _on_ Edward. He's robotic and focused on sales and business and just making it through. He doesn't care about music anymore, he just does what people tell him to do, and goes where people tell him to go."

I stayed quiet as his thumb smoothed over my thigh, his eyes fixated on where he was touching me, as if he was gaining strength from that spot.

"That Edward doesn't _feel_ anything anymore. I _feel _when I'm composing. I _feel _when I'm with you."

I placed my hands over his as I searched his face, because for the life of me I couldn't figure out what he was trying to tell me. "Edward, what-"

"When I was writing your song," he said, bringing his hand up to stroke my cheek, "I felt _alive_, B. I haven't given myself to a project like that in_ so _long. Every day I'd wake up and I couldn't wait to work on it. I want to have that excitement every day, and I'm _good_ at composing."

"So, you're quitting?" I asked, feeling a strange kind of excitement bubbling up inside of me.

"Not quitting," he said, pushing a strand of hair back behind my ear, before letting his hand slide down to cup my cheek. "I'm trying something new."

"And this means you'll-"

"I thought maybe we could have a second chance. A new start to do things the _right_ way, for us to see if we can make this work while we're in the same city. I want to be happy. I want _you_ to be happy, and to finish school and get your degrees. Years from now, when a little girl like you loses her mother, I want her to have someone like you to talk to and help her get through it. Because you were _born_ to do that job, B."

I didn't say anything, because I would never be able to get the words right. I just leaned forward and kissed his soft, perfect lips, because_ of course_ he would say that. He was the boy who let me grieve, who loved me, who sang to me. He was the boy who told me I could fly.

"I love you," I whispered, as my fingertips played with the soft hair that hung just above the nape of his neck. When I stripped away all the fame and the worry and the fear, that was all that was left. We loved each other, and nothing else mattered.

His right hand moved up my thigh until his thumb swept across the waistband of my pajama bottoms, and his left hand gripped my side, his wrist brushing the side of my breast. He pulled me closer to him and he rested his forehead on mine.

"I can't say goodnight to you over the phone anymore," he said, pushing his hips against mine as he kissed me, so light and sweet. "And I want the last thing I see at night to be you, in my arms, in our bed. Not a picture on a nightstand in a strange hotel room." He lifted the hem of my shirt up and slid his warm hand across my lower back. "I want to show you every day just how much I love you."

This time _I_ wanted, and _I_ kissed _him, _with a heated mouth and need and just enough daring to take his bottom lip between my teeth before my mouth finally spoke the words my body had been screaming.

"Show me. _Now_," I whispered.

Edward exhaled a shaky breath that covered my skin and brought it to life, every nerve in my body humming for his mouth, his teeth, his hands, his touch. His other hand found its way beneath my shirt, and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him with his fingers splayed, as if he wanted to touch every bit of me he could in that moment.

_Show me, show me, show me_, I breathed as my teeth nipped at his neck, his chin, his throat, and his lips. My fingers fumbled to pull his shirt up and over his torso, and I wished there were some way that I could get it off without having to stop touching him. But we did stop touching, and I took advantage of our seconds apart to pull my shirt off too, leaving myself bare and exposed before him.

He stood back and looked at me, his eyes soft and tender, and even though he'd seen every bit of me, inside and out, it felt like he was looking at me for the very first time. I reached out and grasped his hand, bringing it up to my lips to kiss his palm before I placed it over my breast. He cupped my flesh, squeezing gently and rolling his fingertips over the places he knew I loved. My head lolled back against the cabinet, and I arched my back and pushed into him, just needing to memorize the way he felt.

His chest was heaving, and it was like that movement had flipped a switch in him, changing everything that was slow and steady into a heated frenzy of lips and tongues and hands and wild hair and unbuttoned buttons and unzipped zippers.

Edward pressed his hips into mine, and some string of unintelligible sounds left our mouths and laced together in the air between us. His mouth collided with mine, all lips and tongue and wet and sweet and needy. His fingers knew all of my secret spots and he found them, one by one, each touch making me moan, and each moan spurring him on to keep checking off things on the list of ways he could make me crazy.

That was what Edward did best: leading me in a dance that only he knew the steps to. He knew the steps because he had written the song. Fingers and tongue _here_ made me cry out in a high-pitched staccato. Lips and hips _there_, and the two of us became a symphony. My body was just another instrument Edward had learned how to play, and _God_ did he know how to play it.

I slid down off of the counter, and Edward let out a soft groan as I moved, my smoothness creating a gentle friction against the soft hair on his chest, teasing every nerve ending under my skin as I went. I pushed him back into the kitchen island, knocking the cabinets against their frames and Edward's undone belt against its buckle. I wrapped my fingers around the denim waist of his pants, and pushed them down, down, down as far as I could get them without having to move my mouth from his. When my hands couldn't reach any further, I gripped his shoulders, using my feet to push that pants puddle right out of our way. When I kicked them across the floor, I stumbled and Edward caught me, and we laughed together and kissed and touched until we'd done just about everything we were willing to do without a soft bed beneath us.

Then we walked to the stairs, him forward, me backward, and we managed to make it halfway up before I slipped, landing on my backside and laughing like I didn't have a care in the world. Edward crouched over me then, want in his eyes and love on his lips as he placed his foot firmly on the too-long cuff of my pajama bottoms. Slowly, I backed up the stairs and out of my pants, and Edward followed me on hands and knees, his long, lean muscles defined as they moved beneath the moonlight shining through the window behind him.

When he reached the step my foot rested on, he gently clasped my ankle and lifted it up to his mouth, running his lips up the inside of my calf and my thigh, until moving to my hip, my belly, my chest, my neck, my lips. He was on top of me, and we were kissing when his hand found its place over my heart, stuttering and thumping like a drum beneath his fingers.

He sat back on his knees and his gaze moved between my eyes and his hand, the fluttering in my chest growing stronger the longer he was still.

"I _want _you," he breathed, snaking his hand along my collarbone until it cradled the back of my neck.

"_Have_ me."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He lifted me by my waist, and the next thing I knew I was upright and moving backward until my knees bent against the edge of his bed, and we fell into a mass of limbs and breaths and kisses on top of the mattress.

When my head found the soft, down pillow, and there was no more fabric between us, Edward lifted himself over me and threaded his fingers with mine. And there was no noise, and no responsibility, and no 'on' and no 'off'. There was me and Edward, and his eyes looking into my eyes, him giving his heart to me, and me giving mine to him. There was the two of us breathing together, needing and loving each other.

Then, with one slow, purposeful push, the two of us were one.

I wrapped my arms around him as he moved inside of me, and buried my face in his neck. He kissed my lips and my cheek and that spot below my ear, as his mouth made noises that were only meant for me. His whole body consumed mine, and I wished there was a way that he could melt into my skin so that I could keep him with me forever.

"Tighter," I begged, as his arm wrapped around my waist. "Hold me _tighter_," I pleaded, not for friction or for pleasure, but because I just needed to be close to him, _so close,_ and it would never be enough. I wanted his fingerprints on my skin, and the memory of his kiss on my lips, always. I never wanted to forget this feeling, _this feeling,_ like I could live the rest of my life here, in this moment, and know that I had everything I ever needed. How had I lived for so long without this touch, this man, this love, this_ feeling_?

And then my body shuddered, because he'd given me _everything_ he had, and I cried out against his shoulder, tasting the salty sheen of his heated skin. Shortly after, _Bella, Bella, Bella _fell from his lips in a shaky voice as his body trembled and his hips met mine with an unsteady, erratic rhythm. His arms collapsed and I held him on top of me, heavy but light, and warm and lovely.

He kissed me as he rolled over in one swift, lithe movement, and I rested my head on his chest as my fingers ran through the damp hair that curled up behind his ear. He told me he loved me, and I said it too, kissing the skin above his heart to seal my words before I closed my eyes to lie in his arms and let sleep take me, even though I was sure that no dream could compare to the reality I had when I was with him in his arms, in his bed, in his_ life_.

Seven hours of much needed sleep later, the sun streamed through Edward's bedroom window, highlighting the naked arms and legs that covered me like a blanket, heavy and sated.

I kissed Edward's cheek and pushed a stray lock of hair off of his forehead, watching the way his eyelids danced with dreams, and admiring how peaceful sleep made his features. He pulled me closer and whispered my name, soft and reverent. In that moment I realized how foolish I had been to think that pictures and phone calls and emails could _ever_ come close to replicating the warmth of his hands on my body, the sound of my name falling from his lips, and the way his words felt as they wrapped around me when I was lying in his arms.

I pulled Edward closer, resting my head on his bicep, and I smiled as I closed my eyes to fall back asleep. After knowing the very _real_ feeling of waking up in this man's arms, I could never go back to the way things were. And the beautiful thing was, now I would never have to.


	11. 1999

*****1999*****

"You need to get this replaced, Edward," Dad said, as the palm of his open hand hovered above the seam that joined the sliding glass door and the wall, up and down, over and over again, like he was some kind of ridiculous mime. "The draft will get you both sick."

Edward moved forward and gripped the door handle, using his full body weight to force the door into place. "There's something wrong with the track, Chief," he said, taking a step back and brushing his hands off against his jeans.

"Mmm-hmm," Dad replied, folding his arms across his chest as he gave Edward the patented Charlie Swan Paternal Look of Skepticism. "Still needs to be replaced, son."

"Oh, I know." Edward moved next to me and his posture was straight as a board, as if he were going through a military inspection. "The windows and doors are my next project. Sir."

Reassured that Edward had a 'to do' list, Dad set his sights on Edward's kitchen cabinetry. "Did you put these in yourself?" he asked, running his finger along the cherry doors that he'd installed only two weeks prior.

"My brother and I did," Edward said, and for a split second he looked so unsure of himself, what with the way my father was scrutinizing everything he'd put so much effort into making perfect. He hid it quickly, but I ran my hand down the inside of his arm and laced my fingers with his, just to let him know we were in this thing together.

Dad looked at our hands for a moment and then nodded. "Did you mount these to the studs?" he asked, knocking on the wood.

"Yes, sir," Edward replied.

Dad planted each of his hands on the bottom of the cabinet and gave it a little tug to test its stability. When it didn't budge, didn't come crashing down from the wall taking the entire house with it, he grasped the door's silver handle, pulling it open and pushing it shut so quickly that it created a breeze that fanned his hair across his forehead.

"What are you doing?" I asked, wholly unable to keep my growing annoyance out of my voice. "Are you the new Forks building inspector or something?"

"No," Dad said, looking over at me with his eyebrow raised. "But he and I play darts at the Lodge on Wednesdays. I can call him over here to check things out if you want me to." He smiled at me as he said those words, but I knew he was serious. Every time he came over here, he'd scrutinize Edward's handiwork, looking at each brush stroke and plank of wood as if his life depended on how well Edward could refinish a floor or paint a wall.

"That won't be necessary, Chief," Edward said. "I had him over last week to take a look at everything."

"Yeah?" Dad asked, sounding surprised as he peered at Edward over his shoulder. "What'd he say?"

"He gave me a little help with a problem I'd had with the drywall downstairs, but other than that, he told me that everything looked really good." Edward's thumb brushed mine as he grinned at my father with a newfound confidence.

"He said it looked _great_," I added, not wanting Edward to shortchange himself.

Dad's mouth quirked up into a sort of half-smile, and he nodded his head. I had to smile too, thankful that Edward was able to walk that conversation tightrope like a pro. One wrong move in either direction, and he could have fallen into a pit of masculine aggression: knuckles dragging over hardwood floors and testosterone flying everywhere as the two of them attempted to one-up each other over their knowledge of various types of wood, and which trowels are preferable to use when setting tile.

Dad continued his inspection, and every door he opened made me angry, and every flaw he pointed out made me angrier still. I didn't understand what he was trying to do here. Emasculate Edward in front of me? Remind both of us that he was the one with the experience and we were just the idiot kids who were attempting to renovate a house with our own hands?

When Dad moved to the pantry, I finally snapped. "There's a new fishing boat waiting for you in one of these cabinets," I said as he pulled the door open. "Edward rigged it so that confetti will fall from the ceiling when you find the right one. The contraption he used is even up to code, and in case you don't believe us, we've got the owner of Main Street Hardware on speed dial just for you."

My father ignored me as he poked his head into the dark storage area, but Edward gently tugged on my arm. When I looked over at him, his eyes were squeezed shut and he was shaking his head slowly. It seemed he wasn't a fan of my sarcasm, which was too bad, because I thought I was on a roll.

"Tile looks good," Dad said after he'd closed the pantry door and turned around. He moved closer, pointing to the colorful backsplash that ran behind the counters on the far left side of the kitchen.

"Bella put that up," Edward said, and he sounded so proud of me. He loosened his fingers from mine and slid his hand across my back slowly, his fingertips blazing a path beneath the hem of my shirt that made my skin tingle.

After letting Edward's words sink in, Dad looked at me like he used to whenever I brought home an A on my report card, or when my college acceptance letter came that cold, grey March day so many years ago. He was proud, and the realization of that made me smile, even through my annoyance.

"You did this?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Great job, baby," Dad said, so sincerely. He grinned as his fingertips danced across the surface of the comely blue tiles that lined the walls of Edward's kitchen.

I felt my chest swell with pride for one quick, shining moment before he moved to the door behind him and gripped the handle, and then all the air left my body.

"Did you finally get the basement finished?" Dad asked, continuing his annoying game of twenty questions. My heart started to beat rapidly, and I didn't like the way the darkness that radiated through the door outlined my father's frame. It made me feel uneasy, like he was going to stumble down there, right into the secret we were both trying to keep from him. Only problem was, Edward acted like he was ready for my father to just stroll on down.

"Yes, sir," Edward said. He must've felt the way my entire body tensed up, because he gave my hip an affectionate squeeze before he pressed his lips to the top of my head. He'd said, 'yes, sir' so many times this evening that he was starting to sound like an enlisted man trying to impress the General. Surely he wasn't going to let him go down there.

"Can I take a look?" Dad didn't wait for either one of us to answer; he just turned toward that black hole, determined to make his way down the stairs, and I knew, I just _knew_ that it was pointless to try to stop him.

So what did I do? I tried to stop him.

"Uh...um," I stammered as I ripped myself from Edward's side and flew to stand in front of my father before he began his descent. "It's messy down there," I said, stretching my arms out across the doorway, even as I realized how insane I must've looked. I cringed, knowing that if there was a chance that my father might not have wanted to go down there, it died the second I let him know that I didn't want him to.

"Did you forget that I used to live with you when you were a teenager? I know what a mess looks like, Bells," he said, placing his hands firmly on both of my arms before pushing them down to my sides so he could get by. He sidestepped me, and I knew he knew I was up to something. "I just want to get a look," Dad said.

I glared at my boyfriend, who looked like he was trying not to laugh.

'_Stop him!'_ I mouthed at Edward, my eyes so wide I probably looked like a cartoon.

'_It's okay_,' his lips replied, as they peeked out from behind Dad's shoulder. Edward seemed amused, and I kind of wanted to smack him for it.

"If I didn't know any better," Dad said, taking the first step down, "I'd think you two were hiding a body down here with all this fuss you're making."

I glanced back at a smiling Edward before I fell in line behind my father and followed him nervously. There wasn't a body in the basement, but we had _definitely_ hidden some evidence down there, and I wasn't sure how Dad would react if he found it.

I cringed as we walked down the stairs, just waiting for my father to turn the corner and see the endless stacks of cardboard boxes lined up against the wall. He would ask about them when he saw them, I just knew it. He'd want to look inside. God, I was panicked.

I slowed down, hoping that there would be enough time to turn around and make a run for it if I had to. Edward would be a pesky obstacle since he was standing right behind me, but I was nearly six inches shorter than him, and kind of quick. I was confident I could make a quick escape.

Like the mind reader that he was, Edward rested his hands on my shoulders, effectively killing any chance I might have had at a getaway. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, Dad stood there with his arms folded across his chest, nodding his head as he surveyed our work. The boxes, they were..._gone_.

I turned to Edward, and he winked at me as his hand brushed the small of my back. It was then, and only then, that my heart regained its steady rhythm.

"This is nice," Dad said, sounding truly impressed. He walked around the perimeter of the room that had once been lined with tacky wood paneling and now had smooth, sturdy walls. The table lamps on either side of the couch cast Dad's shadow across the warm taupe paint as he moved, before he finally came to rest right in front of the obnoxiously large television Edward had insisted on buying to put down here.

"It hasn't been hooked up yet," Edward said, leading me further into the room so that we weren't just standing on the outskirts like a couple of observers. "But when it is, you should come over sometime. We could watch a 'hawks game or something."

Dad turned and smiled at Edward. A real, genuine smile. "I'd like that," he said.

"You guys have a pantry down here?" Dad asked suddenly, craning his neck to check out the small, empty area behind the steps. It seemed like he wasn't just checking out Edward's construction, he was...looking for something? Not that I could blame him, since I had been acting like a lunatic just a few minutes earlier.

"There's a pantry upstairs," I said. He'd just looked in it; I didn't understand how he could've forgotten already.

"I mean a place to keep food for emergencies," Dad replied. "Extra supplies."

"Did you watch _Armageddon_ again? 'Cause if a giant asteroid comes plummeting to earth, all the canned corn in the world won't save us, Dad."

"I read somewhere that Twinkies could survive a nuclear holocaust," Edward added.

"You two are a couple of wiseasses, you know that?" Dad asked, and for a second he almost smiled. "You need to be prepared for 'why two kay.'"

"Why two what?" I asked. It sounded like he was speaking another language.

"You know," he said. "The year two thousand. There's supposed to be this computer glitch that sets all the computer clocks back to nineteen hundred or something like that. It could be a real disaster with the banks and everything. You need to stock up on canned goods."

"Is that why you have all of those cans in the basement at home?" I knew my dad was frugal, and I figured he just stocked up on any and everything that went on sale. Now that I thought about it though, he did have enough food to feed a small army.

Edward's whole body stiffened when I asked that question, but his eyes weren't on me, they were on my father.

"Of course," Dad said. "You've got to be ready for anything."

And then I said it. I mentioned the one thing I had been trying _so hard_ not to bring up, hoping he could get through one day without having to think about it.

"Do you know how many weeks you're going to have to put mixed vegetables on special at the diner just to get rid of all of them?"

My father looked like I had punched him, and I wished there were some kind of verbal vacuum I could use to suck my words right out of thin air and make it like they'd never even come out.

"Dad, I'm sor-"

"It's okay," he said, and I could tell he was trying not to let it bother him. He reached forward and took my hands in his, and he attempted a smile. "It was just a fire, baby. We got to it before it spread, and it'll be fixed in no time," he said. I had a feeling that he'd been repeating those words a lot lately.

It had only been four weeks since that fire had sent my father's business into a tailspin, but when the kitchen is your livelihood and your lifeline, four weeks can seem like forever. The reframing of the damaged parts of the diner had already been finished, and luckily the fire hadn't spread to the bar or dining room. Even so, there was still enough damage to close the place down while it was rebuilt and brought up to code, leaving my dad to piddle around the house and supervise the workers he'd hired to do the work.

"If Vic would've let me, we'd be having this party at the diner tonight with a huge hole in the kitchen."

"You could've had a weenie roast with a bonfire right out back," I teased.

"Yep," Dad laughed, his face beaming. "Maybe next year. I'll cut some costs and make it BYOB."

"Charlie?" Victoria called from the top of the stairs. "Are you through interrogating the kids yet?"

"Not yet," he said jokingly.

"You should probably leave them alone before they decide to kick us out. I don't think I'm ready to go home to our sofa after sitting on Edward's."

Edward laughed, and my dad clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm coming," Dad said.

Edward wrapped his arms around me as my father trudged up the steps, pulling me close to his warm body. I hadn't realized how much cooler it was down here than upstairs.

"Where'd all the boxes go?" I asked. When I came down to do laundry two days ago, they'd definitely still been here, but now, there was absolutely no trace of them.

"Emmett swung by here yesterday before he took Rose out to Sea-Tac. He picked up the boxes and then dropped them off at Children's Home Society while he was there," Edward said before pressing his lips against my forehead.

"Huh, that was nice of him," I replied. "Saves us a trip."

"Yeah, well...he owed me a favor."

"Are you guys talking about the Furby babies?" Emmett asked loudly, appearing in the room from out of nowhere.

"Shhhh! My dad's right upstairs, and he might be able to hear you," I said quietly, turning to look at him with narrowed eyes. "And they're Beanie Babies, Emmett."

"_That's_ right," he replied, nodding. "I can never remember. The Furbies are those things that look like the Gremlins before they got all wet and turned into scary-looking bastards." He looked really pleased with himself for coming up with that comparison. "You ever gonna tell him that you went to all that trouble to buy them off of him?"

I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair. "We were kind of sneaky about it specifically so we _didn't_ have to tell him." Sometimes Emmett could be a little dense. "What would be the point of going through all the trouble to make sure he didn't know it was us, just to go ahead and _tell him_ it was us?"

"Yeah," Emmett said. "That makes sense. I still don't get why you bought all those things from him if you just planned to give them all away."

"Because, Em. That diner is his main source of income, and I didn't want him to fall behind on anything." I felt a strange kind of guilt creep up my body, and it made me feel ashamed, even though I knew I hadn't done anything shameful. We'd given the stuffed animals to a good cause, and my dad benefited from it. What could be wrong about that?

"What are you doing down here anyway?" Edward asked.

Emmett pointed back toward the bathroom and said, "I needed some peace and quiet."

"It's not a library," Edward replied, nodding toward the rolled-up magazine Emmett held in his hand.

"Oh, yeah," Emmett said, shoving it in Edward's direction. "I forgot, I swiped this off of your coffee table. Great article on McGuire and Sosa."

Edward pulled his hands back in a flash. "You can go ahead and keep that."

"What?" Emmett asked, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not like I used it to wipe."

"Ugh, gross," I groaned.

"All right, I'm going...I'm going."

When Emmett was gone, I took advantage of our moment of privacy, and pushed up on my tiptoes to kiss Edward. "Thank you for taking care of that."

"Well, I know how you feel about reading materials in the bathroom."

"Not _that_," I said, smacking Edward's shoulder playfully. "For making sure the boxes were taken care of, and that those toys got to where they were supposed to go."

He laughed and said, "You're welcome." He leaned down and kissed me then: soft and sweet and one-hundred-percent Edward, with his lips that knew my lips by heart, and his wandering hands that found places only they belonged, making my skin feel so hot all over.

"Don't be too hard on your dad," he said after he pulled away from me, and his warm breath kissed my cheek only seconds before his lips did. "He means well, and this is hard for him."

I narrowed my eyes at Edward, but he smiled that bright, infectious Edward smile, and he laughed that laugh that made me feel like I just might fly away.

"Trust me," he said, and although his voice was light, his words were serious.

I nodded, because I trusted him with everything. My life, my heart. "I do."

"C'mon," he said, taking my hand. "We should get back to the party."

When we reached the top of the stairs, I half-expected my father to be rooting around under the sink, checking out the plumbing with his legs splayed out on the floor. To my relief, he wasn't. I found him sitting in the living room with his arm around my stepmother, watching the television that we'd set up in here especially for tonight. I walked up behind them, and rested my hands on the back of the sofa.

Dick Clark's face flashed across the screen, and a wide shot of Times Square showed a sea of happy faces lit up with anticipation and framed by crazy hats and glasses, just waiting for that ball to drop so they could all get a fresh start at a new year.

"I think it'd be kind of neat to spend a New Year's Eve there," I said, to no one in particular. "Just to be able to say that I did it."

Dad turned his head and looked up at me for a second, scowling, before he turned back toward the television. "There's a zero-degree wind chill," he said grumpily. "Those people look like they're frostbitten already. And who secures those crowds, anyway? Some lunatic with a knife could go through stabbing people or worse, and he'd be able to get away with it before anyone was the wiser."

My father, always the protector, always the police chief. I must've looked a little stunned, because Victoria reached over and squeezed my hand, giving me a sympathetic smile.

"I think that would be fun, Bella."

Dad shot her a quick glance that I was sure wasn't all that pleasant, before putting his beer down on the end table and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alice and Jasper were there last year," Carlisle said as he looked at my father. He was sitting on the edge of his seat with his elbows resting on his knees, and he held his beer bottle loosely between his fingers. "They managed to escape unscathed. They were going to try to get back there again this year, but that snowstorm hit, and the Hales live a ways out from the city." Carlisle's eyes were soft and friendly, but I could tell by the way my father's posture stiffened that he didn't find that comment very helpful.

Dad mumbled something under his breath before he took a swig of his beer, but I didn't hear him respond to Carlisle. I did, however, see Victoria take his hand in hers, and lean over to kiss his cheek.

Just as I was about to say something, Esme called my name.

"Can you come here for a sec?" she asked.

I turned and walked across the honey-colored hardwood floor into the den, a room which was undeniably Edward's. A few brightly-colored vintage guitars hung on the walls, along with some sentimental photos and autographs that Edward had collected during his travels throughout the years. Bookcases that reached from floor to ceiling took up the left side of the wall, and nearly every shelf held some kind of musical achievement award. Similar bookcases lined the wall on the right side of the room, only those shelves held stacks and stacks of CDs. Directly across from the door was a pedestal that held Edward's newest pride and joy: a 1942 Philco Wireless Record Player. And Esme was kneeling right in front of it.

"Where did this come from?" Esme asked, as her fingers moved across the shiny wooden surface. Her voice was so full of awe as she turned to her left and examined shelves that held the old records it played, painstakingly put in alphabetical order by Edward himself.

"It belonged to Dr. and Mrs. Gerandy. Edward found it up in the attic a few weeks ago. Isn't it beautiful?" I said. "It's amazing it still works."

Esme's fingers ran along the top of the row of record sleeves, and she occasionally pulled out one of the covers to admire the beauty of the vintage cover art.

"Some of these records," she began, trailing off as her imagination took her far away. She smiled, and I knew that many of these songs probably held some kind of memories for her. "Did you know that Carlisle and I are taking swing dancing classes at the studio in Port Angeles?"

"You never told me that," Edward said with a smile as he walked into the room.

Esme blushed, although I wasn't quite sure why. "It's a date night kind of thing we do," she said, quietly, as if she thought she might've shared too much. "_Oh_, look at _this_," she breathed, resting an old Frank Sinatra LP on her lap.

I smiled, because I knew that record. It held the song that Mrs. Gerandy played when she tried to teach Emmett and Edward how to dance for their cousin's wedding the summer before I turned fifteen. I gently took the LP from Esme, and held it in my hands. I closed my eyes and remembered the way Mrs. Gerandy's paper-like skin looked in the sunlight as she positioned the needle to start the song. The way Emmett dipped me when we danced because he didn't want to practice with his sister, and the look on Edward's flushed face when he put his hand in mine before we-

"You okay?" Edward asked as he crouched down beside me. "You seemed far away." He looked down at the record in my hands, and when his eyes met mine, his smile told me that he knew exactly what I was thinking about.

I was sure there wasn't a power in the universe that could've stopped me from reaching out to touch his face, and if his mother hadn't been sitting right in front of us, I probably would've kissed him too. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm _perfect_."

Edward placed his hand on top of mine, before he kissed my palm. Esme, either because she'd lost interest in our conversation or just wanted to give us some privacy, turned her attention back to the records.

"Hey, Edward, did you forget about me? You comin'?" James gripped the moulding on either side of the door and leaned into the room at a forty-five-degree angle. His mop of hair hung over his eyes, and even though I saw him fairly often, it seemed like every time I did, he looked more and more grown up.

"Nah," Edward said, smiling as he stood up and walked over to the bookcase. "I didn't forget about you."

"Don't hang like that, James," I scolded. "If you lose your grip you'll slam your face into the floor. Maybe even knock out some teeth in the process."

"God, Bella. You're so dramatic." James may have looked different, but he still had the same smart mouth.

I turned around to see Edward walking out of the room with a load of...something in his arms. He held whatever it was close to his chest so that I couldn't see it.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Edward smiled that bright, beautiful smile he let loose whenever he was up to something. "Nothing," he said mischievously, before he and James walked out the door.

"That 'nothing' sounded like a whole lot of _something_, didn't it?" Esme said, her lips turned up into a crooked grin that resembled her son's. "I wonder if Emmett is in on it? With Rose spending the holiday in New York with her family, who knows what kind of trouble he's bound to get into. My boys, the troublemakers."

I laughed, remembering just how much trouble those two were capable of starting. "I'll have to go check on them in a few minutes. I don't trust Edward any further than I could throw him when he looks like _that_."

Esme reached over and patted my arm. "Thank goodness he's _your_ problem now," she said with a wink.

They were simple words, but they made my heart skip a beat.

"So tell me," she said, sidling up next to me on the rug. "How is my son _really_ doing?"

"He's good," I replied, smiling. The way Esme looked when she talked about her children couldn't help but put a smile on your face. "When we're in Seattle, he spends a lot of time writing and tinkering around on the piano. When we're here, he morphs into the next Bob Vila. He's happy, and he smiles a lot. He seems to be enjoying life, and he's not nearly as stressed out as he used to be."

"He _is_ enjoying life, Bella, I have no doubt about that," Esme said.

"I think slowing down and changing his focus was the best thing he could've done."

"The _second_ best thing," she replied, smiling, before taking a sip of her wine.

I was about to ask her what she meant by that when I heard a huge crash from out in the dining room, followed by-

"No fair!" James shouted. Even though his voice was raised, he was laughing, and that was what made me realize that whatever they were doing most likely needed to be stopped.

"You should probably go check that out," Esme said, laughing.

In no time at all, I was on my feet and on my way to the dining room. When I got there, I saw two chairs had toppled over onto the floor, and Edward and James stood on opposite sides of the long, rectangular table. There were two American Music Awards on either end of the side James was manning, and two Grammys on Edward's side. Emmett stood in the middle with his arms folded across his chest, grinning like an idiot.

"What in the hell are you guys doing?" I asked, annoyed. James was precariously close to the pointy top of Edward's AMA, and all I could think about was him getting overexcited and poking his eye out with the thing.

I walked over to him, and noticed that he had a pink sponge fastened to his hand with what looked like half of a roll of masking tape. "Seriously, what the hell?" I said, lifting James's arm up by the wrist.

Edward raised his right hand, showing a similar contraption, only instead of a pink sponge, his was blue. His left hand held a large cork coaster.

"We're playing air hockey," James said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Air hockey," I repeated. I was sure I sounded like a complete moron, but I just couldn't wrap my mind around the thought process that went into figuring out the nuances of this 'game' they were playing. I had to admit though, it was pretty freaking creative. "At least...switch sides with James or something, so he doesn't gouge his eye out on that thing," I said, motioning toward the pointy, eye-threatening awards they were using as goal posts. "You don't want him to live the rest of his days having to wear a patch."

"Yesssss," Emmett hissed under his breath, as if my not making them stop was some kind of victory. Which, I guess, it probably was.

"A patch would be kind of cool," James said, and I wanted to smack myself for choosing the only words that would make him_ want _to lose an eye.

"Oh, _no_ it wouldn't. Switch," I said, sounding way more motherly than I ever had before.

Edward watched me as he moved from one side of the table to the other. He was smiling, but he looked a little dazed.

"Score!" James yelled as he jumped up and down, giving Emmett a high five with his non-sponged hand.

Emmett's face just beamed with pride. "I knew you could get one over on him if you caught him off guard."

"What?" Edward said, shooting his brother a nasty look. "You're such a cheat."

"Nice lesson to teach the kid there, Em," I said, walking over to stand behind James. "You don't have to cheat to win, you just need to master the fine art of trickery."

"Trickery?" James asked. He looked confused, and I decided that I was going to have to find a way to make the boy read a little bit more.

"Yeah," I said, bending down so that I was almost at his eye level. I cupped my hand around his ear so that Edward couldn't see my lips moving, and I told James the secret that would be the downfall of the overconfident Cullen standing across from us.

"Edward likes patterns," I whispered. "You've gotta confuse him, change it up a little bit. Fake to the right twice, then to the left once, then the right three times. You'll throw him off. Once you've got him paying too much attention to what your hand is doing, he won't be able to anticipate your next move. Then...you _attack_."

"Attack?" he asked, sounding excited now that he realized I knew what I was talking about.

"Go ahead, try it."

James looked unsure for a second, then he set the makeshift puck down and moved his sponged hand in a whirr of synthetic pink, and I didn't even realize he'd shot the coaster until it landed on the floor. Right at Edward's feet.

"Oh my God!" James yelled, as he wrapped his arms around my waist in a vice-like grip. "I love you, Bella. I just love you."

I ran my fingers through his shaggy hair and laughed, until Edward stalked toward us, looking more than a little put out.

"You're dirty," he said, trying not to laugh as he wagged his finger in my face. "Filthy. Dirty."

"No I'm not," I replied, smiling. "I've just got your number, Cullen."

Edward nodded slowly, pursing his lips, and then he winked at me. "You've always had my number, Swan." He playfully swatted my backside before he turned around to go back and protect his American Music Award goal posts.

"Can we stop with the grabass and get this game back on?" Emmett asked. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together as he leaned over the table, and it was then that I realized he was the referee in this ass-backwards endeavor.

"Be careful, James. I don't want you getting overexcited and hurting yourself."

James just rolled his eyes like usual.

"Be careful with the floors," I said, pointing at their feet. "And...don't scuff up the table."

"Okay, Mooooom," James said sarcastically.

I was about to say something to him when Edward's eyes met mine, all soft and happy and so much lighter than they had been a minute ago. He didn't look playful anymore; he just wore this tender expression that made me feel like my lungs had stopped working. He gave me a gentle smile, and I smiled back.

"Ed_warrrrrd_," James whined. "Come on!"

"All right, all right," Edward said, glancing at me one more time before he threw the coaster back down in the middle of the table. "I'm ready to beat you down now."

It was nearly eleven-thirty, and I'd had my fill of testosterone for the evening, so I went into the kitchen to get the champagne flutes ready for our toast. I picked up an armful of dirty dishes that were sitting on the table where James and Victoria had started to put together a puzzle earlier in the day, and I walked them over to the sink. I went ahead and filled up the right side of the sink with soap and hot water, because I knew Edward and I would probably be cleaning up after everyone left.

The dog came wandering into the room for the first time all night, and he wagged his tail when he saw me. I crouched down on the floor as he came my way, and I could tell by the way he took his time to stretch that he'd just woken up from a nap.

"C'mere Buster," I said, holding my hand out to him. I scratched the scruffy fur behind his ear, and he leaned into my hand as he made some kind of contented dog noise. "You been hiding out?" He licked my wrist in response, and then laid down and rolled over so I could rub his belly.

A minute or so later, I stood up to put the dishes in the hot, bubbly water. Once everything was soaking, I reached up on my tiptoes and pulled down one flute at a time, very carefully, since I had a tenuous grasp on my balance as it was.

"Want some help?"

My father's voice startled me, and the two glasses I held in my hand clanged together loudly. I was surprised they hadn't broken, because I could feel the vibration against my skin and in my ears. Dad moved swiftly toward me, placing his hand over the tops of the flutes as he gently removed them from my grasp. I turn around to get the other two, but Dad moved in front of me, reaching the glasses easily before I even had a chance.

"I could've gotten those," I said petulantly. I was still annoyed with him because of the way he acted earlier, and it was obvious in my voice.

Dad sighed and raised his hand up to his face, where he rubbed his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against the island, resting his hands on either side of him as he drummed his fingers against the counter.

I placed the flutes on a serving platter in three neat rows and filled each one carefully, only looking up at my father between pours.

"Just yesterday I was changing your diapers, and now look at you..." He moved his index finger and thumb along his jaw, and I could hear the faint scratch of his stubble.

"I've grown up, Dad," I said, as if he had somehow managed not to notice.

Dad bit down on his bottom lip before he said, "I know that, baby. I know."

"Edward's grown up too, you know. He's not that goofy gangly kid who used to hang around the house. He's old enough to vote, and he can buy a beer down at the Lodge. He's competent enough to renovate a kitchen without someone looking over his shoulder and scrutinizing his work." My voice had a tinge of bitterness to it.

Dad nodded, and he was quiet for what seemed like a very long time. Until he wasn't.

"When you were a baby," he said, his voice soft, "I was so scared to hold you. You were so tiny that you could fit in both of my hands." A smile flitted across his face for a moment as he reached toward me with his palms up. "All that life in such a little body, and I was terrified of it. When your mom showed me how to change your diaper, I made her stand next to me while I did it, just to make sure I didn't break you."

I smiled at that image, because I couldn't imagine my father, the Chief, being afraid of holding a baby.

"Bells, when you have a child, it's like someone throws you into the water when your sorry ass doesn't know how to swim, and you have no lifejacket. You panic for a second, and then you realize that when you move your arms a certain way, your head stays above the water. And then you kick a little, and you learn how to move around some more. Before you know it, with a little trial and error, you can move from shore to shore without even having to think about it. And then, just when you think you've got it all figured out, someone asks you to go back on dry land."

He looked at me for a moment with a wistful, sad sort of smile on his face. "I'm on dry land here, Bells," he said. "And I'm so lost."

Dad reached over and touched my face, and I wanted so badly to make things right, to say something that would make him feel better, but I was a little bit lost, too.

"Do you remember that summer when you were about seven or eight, when old Mr. Cooper put up that rope swing down at the lake?"

I laughed, because out of all of my childhood memories, that day on the lake was one of the clearest. The way my dad looked at my mom while she sat in her lawn chair reading as he manned the grill. The squeal she made when he grabbed her by the waist and threw her in the water, and the way he screamed when she tugged on his shirt and pulled him in with her. How they kissed and hugged and laughed and splashed each other. And that godforsaken rope swing.

"I remember," I said.

"You fought with me all day to get on that thing, and when I finally let you, what did you want?"

"I wanted you to pull me back as far as the rope would go so I'd land further out in the water than the other kids did. You held me so tight I thought I was going to wind up taking you along for the ride," I said, laughing.

Dad chuckled and nodded his head. "A million things went through my head in that minute. I was scared you'd go too far, that you'd fall off before you cleared the land, that you'd get disoriented, that you'd freak out and forget how to swim. And then, just like it was nothing, you said, 'Daddy, let go-'"

"-I'm ready to fly. I remember. You were taking too long," I said, laughing. "I was impatient."

"And here you are, all these years later; a college graduate, a strong, beautiful young woman who lays a mean set of tile," he said, pointing over at the backsplash. "And I'm still holding onto you like you're going to break."

And then, right when the words came out of his mouth, everything shifted into focus. I understood why Dad felt the incessant need to check up on every little thing in the house. It wasn't because he didn't trust Edward, it was because he was having a hard time letting me move on into the next phase of my life. One that didn't include him being my protector and provider.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, smiling. "There will always be a rope I need you to hold onto. You're my Dad, and...I'll always need you."

Dad grinned despite his watery eyes, and he reached out and touched my face. "Just let me take a look under the hood of your car every once in a while," he said. "It gives your old man a sense of purpose."

I laughed. "Okay."

"Promise me one thing," he said, as the rough skin on the pad of his thumb skimmed my cheek.

"Anything."

"I never _really _understood your mother's insistence on this New Year's tradition; I always thought she just liked the company and having all you kids in a safe place on the holiday. I kept up with it after she died because...she was the love of my_ life_. She kept telling me, 'You'll see one day, Charlie. You'll see.'"

So many years later, and I still loved the way his face lit up whenever he talked about my mother. I could tell he was getting choked up, but somehow he managed to hold it all back.

"Now," he said, shaking his head as he let out a small breath of air. "Now I_ finally_ get it. She wanted to make sure that when you all grew up and scattered across the globe, that you'd have some reason to come back to this speck of a town. She wanted to start something that would bring all of you home again."

"She was a smart woman," I said.

Dad nodded. "You're so much like her. _So_ much. You're stubborn and smart and strong. And you don't take any of my crap," he said, laughing. "Sometimes when I look at you, I see her and..." his voice trailed off then, but I didn't need him to finish that thought, because I knew what he meant. I could see her sometimes too, when I looked in the mirror, or saw an old photograph of myself. To have that smile that I could never forget shining back at me was oddly comforting.

"Keep this _alive_, Bells. Traditions...I used to think they were stupid. But I know now that they're the invisible strings that keep us all tied together through the years. I want your children, Emmett and Rose's children, James's children, and all their children's children, to do this every year. There might not always be a diner, and you might not always live in this house, but it's the people who are important, not the location. _Don't_ let it die."

I'd never heard my father speak so adamantly, and I knew that this thing we all participated in, that we all took for granted, meant more to him than I ever even realized. I could never let it fade; I'd keep it going as long as there was a breath in my body.

"I promise," I said. "I _promise_."

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest, hugging me tighter than he had in a very long time. His flannel shirt was so soft, and his mustache tickled my skin. He smelled like laundry detergent and Forks and the cab of his pickup truck. And when I breathed in so deep that I knew I would never forget this moment, Dad gave me a gentle, lingering squeeze. Maybe he did it so he could remember this too, or maybe it was because he had to hold me tighter one more time before he could let me go.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

And when he was really close to my ear, he said the one thing I hoped I would never have to hear. "I know about the Beanie Babies."

My face flushed with shame, and my stomach dropped all the way down to my shoes. "The what?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Dad laughed, and then my stomach attempted to right itself, ending up somewhere in the vicinity of my knees.

"Dad, I just wanted to-"

"I know why you did it," he said, pulling away from me as he rubbed my shoulders. "I appreciate the thought, and once the diner is finished, I'm going to pay you back."

"You don't have to pay me back," I argued. My embarrassment kept me from being as fervent about it as I normally would have been, because while my heart was in the right place, I hadn't realized until now how what I'd done would make him feel. I didn't want him to think that I thought he couldn't take care of himself.

"I'm paying you back," he said, and then he _was_ fervent.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Well," he said, smiling. "I put two and two together. It didn't hurt that Emmett accidentally let it slip the other day."

I sighed. Part of me wanted to wring Emmett's neck, but I was glad it was out in the open. Keeping secrets had never worked out too well for me.

"I guess maybe we need to learn to let go of each other then, huh?" I asked.

Dad squeezed me again, and he laughed. "Maybe."

And two seconds later when Edward walked into the kitchen, we finally did let go.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking kind of surprised to see us hugging. Then a slow smile spread across his face, and he started to turn around. "I'll just-"

"It's all right, Edward," Dad said. "I think we're done here."

"It's nearly midnight, and Victoria and my mom were looking for you-"

"Yep," Dad said, standing tall as he patted himself on the chest. "I still got it. The ladies love me."

"Actually, I think they-"

"Son," Dad said, "when you get older you'll understand the importance of letting a man puff up his own ego every now and then."

Edward laughed. "Understood, sir."

"No more of this 'sir' business," Dad said, patting Edward's shoulder. "Just...no formalities, okay?"

"Okay," Edward replied, nodding his head.

Dad didn't say anything else; he just stood there looking at Edward for a moment before giving his shoulder a squeeze, and then he walked out.

"Things are better?" Edward asked as he moved toward me. He put his hand on my hip and slid his arm around my waist.

"Yes," I said.

He gripped the counter with his right hand, and his wrist brushed against my side as he towered over me. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and my heart thumped against my chest so hard that I thought it might be trying to escape.

"It's almost midnight," Edward said, and I could feel the heat of his body through my clothes.

"It is," I breathed.

"We should probably go out there with everyone else, since we're hosting the party."

All I could think about were his perfect lips and the way they felt against my skin. It wasn't fair that they were so close and being used for such a silly thing like talking.

"We're being unforgivably rude," I said.

"The etiquette chick who writes that column you like to read in the newspaper could probably fill a couple of pages on all the rules of society we're breaking right now," he whispered as his nose skimmed the line of my jaw. And _oh_, _there_ were the lips, pressing against one of the many places that only they could touch.

"Mmm-hmm," I hummed. That was all I could do, since my brain function ground to a halt when he touched me like this.

"You know, we've never had a proper midnight kiss," Edward breathed across my neck, as his hand slowly inched down the small of my back.

"If I remember correctly, last night around midnight you were kissing me in lots of places," I replied. "Properly." I flushed under his hands, under his mouth, under his words, and I wrapped my arms around him, letting my fingers twist themselves in his hair.

Edward laughed. "I most certainly was," he said. "But I was talking about a proper _New Year's _kiss. At midnight."

"Well," I said, lifting his head from my neck. "If you're going to do it right, pretend like you've never been to the show before."

Edward smiled, and stood up straight. "You're right."

Just then, we could hear the countdown begin from the living room.

"_Ten...nine...eight..._"

Edward's hand ran across my shoulder until it found its place on the back of my neck, and my arm snaked around his waist until my index finger came to rest in one of his belt loops.

"_Seven...six..._"

Our lips moved closer together, the smaller the numbers became, until-

"_Five...four...three...two...one..._"

-he kissed me, soft and sweet with lips that lingered; a reminder of what was to come in the early hours of the morning, after everyone had gone home and the house had quieted, and the only sounds we would hear were whispered words, and lips brushing lips, and skin touching skin between sheets.

"Happy New Year," I said, reaching up to kiss him again. It was hard to believe that, after everything we'd been through on these nights, this was the first time we'd ever done this.

"Happy New Year," Edward replied, with that crooked grin that always made my arms and legs feel like jelly. "Only good things are in store for us this year, I can feel it."

Ever since Edward had quit touring to focus on composing, he'd been so much lighter and optimistic. It wasn't until he finally slowed down that I realized not only had his constant travel taken a toll on _us_, it weighed on him more heavily than I could have ever understood. Sometimes I wondered if he regretted his decision. But when I saw him like this, all bright eyes and contagious smiles and hopeful for the future, I knew that of all the things that made him who he was, regret was not one of them.

He leaned down and captured my bottom lip between his, and for the first few moments of the new year, we got lost in each other.

"Ugh, gross," James moaned. He startled us, and Edward and I accidentally bumped our foreheads together.

"Ouch," I said, as my hand flew up to rub the ache. I looked over at Edward, and he was grinning, doing the same.

"Mom says you need to get your asses out there with the champagne."

I gave him a stern look, but he was one step ahead of me.

"That was a direct quote. It was okay for me to use that word," he said, his expression serious.

Edward laughed as he picked up the tray holding the champagne. "Your dad and Victoria are in a world of trouble with that one."

When we made it out to the living room, everyone clinked their glasses together in a toast, and we sipped and laughed and made small talk until eyes got droopy and yawns became a part of the conversation.

Once we'd watched the last set of taillights fade into the darkness at the bottom of the driveway, Edward and I stood in the kitchen, surveying the small but significant damage.

"We should clean this up tomorrow," he said, stretching his arms and letting an exaggerated yawn escape from his mouth. He'd seemed pretty peppy two minutes ago, the faker.

"Or we could clean them tonight. If we leave all this stuff out, we'll come down here tomorrow and find Buster licking the countertops." I hated to admit we learned that unfortunate lesson the hard way.

Edward looked at me for a long while, and he sighed before he finally relented. He had a little strut in his step as he walked over to the sink, and if I had to put money on what he was thinking, I'd be willing to bet that he was hoping he'd be getting lucky tonight once we headed upstairs.

We stood side by side, and our arms bumped against each other as he passed the dishes over to me to rinse. By the time we were close to being finished, I was resting my head against his shoulder as he handed me the last plate, just enjoying the monotony of the chore and the quiet comfort of being together.

When the last dish had been set in the drying rack, I reached over and grabbed the dishtowel to dry off my hands, and then passed it to Edward.

"We threw a party tonight," he said, as he wiped the remaining beads of water from between his fingers.

I smiled. "We sure did. And I think it went pretty well, don't you?"

"It went _really_ well," he said. He threw the wet towel onto the counter, and I noticed that he was standing an inch or two taller than he usually was, with his chest all puffed out and the corner of his mouth pulling into a self-satisfied grin. He looked pretty cute like that.

"What are you so pleased about?" I asked, smiling just like he was. When he was happy, I couldn't help but be happy, too.

"When I looked at you tonight in the dining room, the way you were with James, and about the table…it felt…_I_ felt like I was looking at forever right there in front of me, with you, and...and we threw a party like…like a couple, like _adults_, and I don't know…it just…it makes me feel like a grown up." He crossed his arms over his chest and scrunched his eyebrows as he glanced at me, and then looked down at the floor.

"There are eight figures in your bank account, and this is what makes you feel grown up?" I smiled at him, just to let him know that I was kidding, because I'd never seen him so flustered and I knew that a little good-natured teasing usually brought him back to earth. He was quiet for a moment before he turned to me with a serious expression, and I knew I'd accidentally opened a door that I had tried so hard to keep shut.

"You mean _our_ bank account," he said. His voice was tight, and I could tell he was trying not to start a fight with me.

We didn't argue often, but these days, when we did, the arguments were usually about things like bank accounts and deeds, where I couldn't possibly measure up to his contribution, and I felt so inadequate. Edward was so generous with everything, and he _never_ made me feel inferior, but there were moments when I did.

If I were being honest, I could admit that he was beginning to wear me down. I'd grown tired of this bone of contention between us, and when I got right down to the heart of the argument, the fact of the matter was that we _were_ on equal footing in the relationship. We'd just chosen two different career paths with two _very_ different salaries. All he wanted to do was share everything he had with me. He was the generous one, but I had trouble doing the taking.

"Are we going down this road again, B?" When he spoke this time he sounded so weary, and I hated being the one who did that to him.

"No," I said, but my voice was quiet and small, and not at all convincing.

"We live together in Seattle, and we live together here in Forks. But do you realize that you still refer to this as 'Edward's house'? You're still calling Charlie's house home. That makes me feel like…like I've done something wrong here."

My eyes grew wide, because how could he ever think anything like that? I hadn't realized that I'd been saying those things, but they weren't a reflection of the way I felt for Edward, _or_ how I viewed our relationship.

"You haven't done anything wrong," I said. "And I didn't realize…"

I heard Edward sigh, and then he turned to look at me, his face full of understanding. "You've said before that sometimes you feel uncomfortable with all of this because you see it as being _mine_. But don't you realize how I earned that money?" he asked, grinning as his fingers ran down my arm, making me shiver.

"Most of the songs I wrote on all the albums I sold were _about_ you or inspired _by_ you. And so many people bought tickets to hear me sing those songs. You think you're taking something from me, but I'm sharing it with you because it's _yours_, too. I wouldn't have it without you. Am I making any sense?"

When he made his argument that way, I was able to look at it from a whole other perspective. It _did _make sense.

"That's _our_ bank account, B, _our_ money. This is _our_ house, and those are _our_ cars in the garage. We sleep on _our_ bed, and I make love to you tangled up in _our_ sheets." He pressed his hand to his chest between every sentence, and the way he looked at me, the absolute intensity of it, was too much to bear.

I could feel his eyes watching me, and I searched for something, _anything_ to relieve the weight of this moment so it didn't feel so heavy, so _big_.

My eyes drifted across the countertop until I finally found my target: a loaf of bread that Edward had used to make a sandwich earlier, which was sitting there getting stale because he could never seem to close it up properly.

I reached over and grabbed the loosely wrapped end of the plastic bag it came in, along with the unused red twisty tie that sat next to it.

"This is _our_ bread," I said, and I watched Edward purse his lips, because he knew what was coming to him. "Right?"

"Don't change the subject," he said, grinning.

"Oh, I'm not," I said, holding the bread with one hand as I put the other one on my hip. "This is _our_ bread now, but when it gets stale and nasty, it'll be all yours. You won't even have to toast it. Yum."

"Oh, yeah?" Edward said, his mouth bursting with a full smile now. He took the loaf of bread and the tie from me, tossing the bag on the counter beside him. "Well this is _our_ silverware." He reached behind me and plucked a handful of it from the drying rack before turning them upside down and dropping them back in there with a loud clang. "And I don't want it to dry all crusty and gross. The tops should be facing _up_, not down. That's disgusting."

I turned around and picked up half of what Edward had, flipped it around, and dropped them back in. Again. "I don't want to stab myself when I reach in there to get something out!"

Edward bit his lip, trying so hard not to laugh. "Well…you put _our_ toilet paper on the holder wrong."

"It goes over, not under, Edward. If we did it your way, half the roll would just be in a puddle on _our_ floor, since you yank on the thing like you're spinning the big wheel on The Price is Right." Now_ I_ couldn't stop smiling.

"You know what?" he said, laughing as he walked over to the refrigerator. "There are eight sticks of butter in _our_ refrigerator. What are we going to do with eight sticks of butter?"

I walked over and took the boxes from his hands. "One box is salted," I said, holding it up to his face. "And the other isn't. You need one for some things, and one for others. I want _our_ food to taste good!" I shut the refrigerator door, and Edward moved quickly, spinning me so my back was against the door. He placed a palm on either side of my head, locking me into the best kind of prison.

"You talk in your sleep," he said, his mouth only inches from mine. I reached up and touched his face, and his eyes closed as he smiled. "It's the silliest, sexiest thing ever."

"You steal all the covers," I replied, tracing the line of his lips with the tip of my finger. "I think you do it so I have to cuddle up close to you to stay warm. So sneaky."

Edward leaned forward until his forehead touched mine, and we just stood there together for a minute or two. We breathed the same air, and I felt the goosebumps on his skin as my fingertips slowly moved up his arm. Then Edward's hand touched my cheek, and slowly slid down to the nape of my neck, where his palm came to rest and his fingers got lost in my hair.

He pulled back and looked at me, _really_ looked at me, with those green eyes that I'd been gazing into ever since I started to believe in fairy tales, and he smiled that smile that I would recognize even with my eyes closed.

"I love you, B," he said, so quietly. "Every bit of you, even the parts that I don't understand."

I smiled, and turned my head to kiss his wrist. "I love you, too. Every bit of you, even the parts that drive me crazy."

"One day," he said, moving his hand across my shoulder and down, so that he could trace along the neckline of my shirt. "Some day soon, when you're not expecting it, me and my parts that drive you crazy are going to ask you and your parts that don't make sense to marry us, and...see if you could love us forever."

Then he did something that was so simply, perfectly _Edward_, that it made my heart break and put itself back together all at the very same time. He reached up and took my hand, and then he slipped that red twisty bread tie that he'd fashioned into a nearly perfect circle right on my left ring finger.

"We're going to ask you that, you know, me and my parts that drive you crazy," he said, as his index finger and thumb traced the edges of that makeshift ring. "And we're going to hope like hell that you say yes."

I couldn't answer a question that hadn't been asked, so I let my fingers trail their way up the back of his hair, and I pulled him to me. I took his bottom lip between mine, and when he moaned that soft moan that I knew by heart, I smiled with my mouth against his.

His arm wrapped around me, and he held me so tightly that it seemed like our hearts were beating together right on the very same spot. We were a tangled mess of hands and hair and soft, warm lips that just couldn't get enough of one another, full of love and promises and all the good things that we'd always spent too long denying ourselves.

"Come here," he said breathlessly, after so many kisses that left me feeling like I hadn't had nearly enough. His hand drifted down the inside of my arm, and he laced our fingers together. "There's something I want to do."

He smirked when he saw me bite my lip, because he knew me well enough to know what was on my mind. And just like he always did, Edward surprised me; he led me through the living room and into the den, bypassing the stairs, which was where I'd hoped we were heading.

Edward walked over to the old Philco, and knelt down beside it to flip through the record sleeves to find the one he was looking for. When he finally did, he stood up, and I saw Frank Sinatra's familiar face as Edward gently pulled the LP out of its jacket.

"Remember when we danced to this?" Edward asked, looking back at me over his left shoulder. "Or _tried_ to dance, I should say."

"Of course I remember," I said, smiling.

He put the record on the turntable and carefully set the needle near the edge, and a soft crackle filled the air before the music began to play. He stood across from me looking so much like he did that day all those years ago, but in the place of a nervous teenager now stood a confident man.

"My whole body shook when I held you then," he said, closing the distance between us with one sure step. He slid a steady hand around my waist, and clasped my hand with his as my arm wrapped around his neck. "I wanted you so badly."

"I thought it was because you didn't want to dance with me," I admitted, thinking back to the girl I used to be; unsure, unsteady, and completely clueless.

He smiled sadly as we stepped to the right, and began a slow revolution around the area rug in the middle of that old room.

"You were wrong, you know." he said. "It was because you were the _only_ one I wanted to dance with."

"Emmett made fun of you for knowing the words to this song," I reminded him.

Edward laughed, nodding his head. "Yeah, and then I completely butchered them. Warbled like a jackass just to get my brother off my back."

"It was pretty bad."

"You know, Mrs. Gerandy took me aside that day, after everyone had gone home. She said that when you put the right words to music and bring them to life with beauty, you can make even the hardest of hearts fall in love."

"That sounds exactly like her," I said, remembering that beautiful woman who lived out the end of her love story right within these very same walls. She was a poetic, lovely old soul, and I missed her, even all these years later.

"She also said that they could make an oblivious young girl finally see something that had been standing right in front of her for years," he said, his expression serious.

I pulled back to look at him, my eyebrows all scrunched up in confusion as I eyed him skeptically. "She did _not_. That sounds like a classic Cullen line to me."

Edward laughed, and I smacked him playfully on the chest. "Am I that obvious? That cheesy and..._bad_?"

"Sometimes," I said, smiling. "But I think it's part of your charm."

I leaned forward and kissed him, just a light, gentle brush of my lips against his, and I rested my head on his chest as my arms draped across his shoulders. Edward and I swayed to the rhythm of the music, and when I closed my eyes so I could remember everything about this moment, his cheek touched mine as his lips came so close to my ear that I could feel the warm cloak of his breath across my neck. Then, Edward brought those musical words to life, and he sang to me just like he had so many times before.

"_When you're in my arms, and I feel you so close to me...A__ll my wildest dreams come true_..."

We swayed to the soft melody that weaved through Edward's words until the needle reached the end of the record, and reset itself to start all over again.

"We've come a long way from Bon Jovi covers on your front porch, haven't we?" I asked, smiling as I looked up at him. My eyelids were growing heavy, but I refused to give in, because I didn't want this moment to end.

"We certainly have," Edward said. He clasped my hand in his and held it against his chest. "I wonder what I'll be singing to you fifty years from now?"

"I don't know," I replied, grinning. "But I can't wait to find out."

Edward spun me around, free and easy, before the music started playing again. And that old Philco record player spinning Mrs. Gerandy's favorite Sinatra LP got quite the workout that evening.

With our arms wrapped around each other and our lips pressed together, so sweet and so tender, we danced _our_ dance across the floor of _our _den in_ our_ house on _our_ night. And in those tiny, precious, irreplaceable moments in the early morning hours of the brand new year, all caught up in love and dreams and thoughts of forever, Edward and I finally began _our_ life together.


	12. Epilogue: 2005

*****2005*****

"I don't understand what's so lucky about beans," Emmett said as he leaned on the counter next to the stovetop, peering into the pot suspiciously. "I mean, unless you're having, you know..._issues_." He motioned toward his stomach, and I rolled my eyes at him. "But then I'd consider them magical, not necessarily _lucky_, since-"

"Em," Rose snapped, interrupting him. She shook her head, and soft blonde waves cascaded down her shoulders. "Don't go there."

"Thanks, Rose," I said, turning to give her a grateful smile.

"Besides, why are they called peas if they're really beans? And why do we eat them every New Year's?" Emmett was _not_ going to give it a rest tonight.

"Why don't you save us the twenty questions and Google it?" Edward asked sarcastically as he stood in the doorway and kicked off his shoes. I gave him a huge, goofy grin, because he saved me again, just like he always did. He winked at me as he shrugged his shoulders out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack.

"You really don't get tradition, do you?" Rose asked, as she thumbed through the magazine that was sitting on the kitchen table.

Emmett stepped back and clapped his hand on his chest, like he was personally affronted. "I've been eating them for the past hundred years, haven't I? I just want to know _why _I do it."

"Why don't you go ask your sister," Rose said. "She knows everything."

"Eh, she's off somewhere with Jasper being disgusting. You know how those two are. Doesn't _anyone_ here know why we do this?"

"What's with the sudden thirst for knowledge?" Edward asked. "Did you make a resolution to boost your brainpower or something?"

"Nah, resolutions are bullshit. Just a promise you make to yourself that you'll wind up breaking anyway."

Edward smiled at me then, because he knew as well as I did that for every broken resolution, there would always be one that would change absolutely _everything_.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?" Rose asked, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. It wasn't like Emmett to be so cynical, but boy was he on a roll tonight.

"Dunno," Emmett said, shrugging his shoulders. "I think I need some sugar or something. I haven't had any since dinner."

"You can have your pick of what we've got in the refrigerator in the garage," Edward said. "James is down there with that hunk of scrap metal on wheels that he wants to restore."

"I forgot I told him I'd look at that," Em said as he stood up and walked over to the stairs that led down to the garage. "You wanna come, Rosie? You know more about Fords than I do."

"Yeah, all right," she replied as she rose and brushed the wrinkles out of her shirt. She bunched her hair back into a ponytail, securing it with the elastic that she usually wore around her wrist.

"Do me a favor," Edward said, walking over to where his brother stood. "Victoria's scared shitless that he's going to kill himself in that thing. You know how she is. She's down there; just put her mind at ease and let her know he's safe."

Emmett clapped Edward on the shoulder. "Will do."

When the clunking of footsteps down the stairs died out, Edward walked up behind me and slid his arms around my belly, where his thumb rubbed small circles across my skin. He rested his chin on my shoulder, holding me while I stirred.

"Why _do_ we eat these?" he asked.

"They're supposed to bring prosperity in the new year," I explained. "Health and happiness."

"We can definitely use some health and happiness," he said, as he brushed his lips across my shoulder, making my heart skip a beat. I leaned into him and put the spoon down so my fingers could run the length of his arms until my hands rested on top of his. Then he kissed my neck, and that spot right beneath my ear, and-

"If you don't stop, I'll burn these and we'll have bad luck all year."

Edward breathed a hushed laugh against my skin before kissing me there. "You're not superstitious, B."

"I know," I said, smiling at the way his hair tickled my cheek. "I just don't want to tempt fate. And I would be really disappointed if I couldn't have two or three bowls of these tomorrow."

"You and me both. Your-"

Edward was interrupted by the small thumps of tiny feet running across the floor, and even from a room away I could hear the hushed giggles trying so hard not to escape that cute little mouth.

The soft tinkling of something that might've sounded like a melody under more experienced hands rang out through the air, and Edward laughed as he let go of me to move a little closer to the hallway.

"Renee Esme Cullen!" he said, sounding stern, even though he had a huge smile plastered on his face. He'd created a monster with that child; ever since the first day he sat her on his lap to play _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_, she couldn't rest until her fingers were touching ivory keys.

"I got her, I got her," Dad said, flying past us in a flash on his way to the piano room.

Seconds later, there was a high-pitched squeal followed by tiny peals of laughter that sounded like sunshine. When my dad returned looking positively exhausted, Edward reached out to take our wriggling three-year-old daughter into his arms.

"What did Mommy and I tell you about the piano?" Edward asked, brushing her long, loose reddish curls away from her face.

Renee pursed her little lips and looked repentant as she buried her face against Edward's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Did you two give her sugar or something?" Dad asked, running his fingers through his hair. "She never stops." Renee looked over at him, and he tickled her chin.

"Gram_pa_!" she cried, squirming.

"She's just excited," I said, leaning across Edward's shoulder to plant a kiss on her forehead. "All the people, the noise. She's been waiting for tonight."

"Just like her grandmother," Dad said quietly.

"I have Grandma's name," Renee replied, rolling the collar of Edward's shirt between her fingers. She sounded so proud when she said that, and I was proud that someone so small who'd only seen pictures and been told stories about my mother always seemed to remember so much about her.

"I know you do," Dad said, smiling that soft, sad smile that we really only saw on nights like these, when I wondered if he still felt just a little bit empty. "It's a very special name to have." Dad reached over and lifted her from Edward's arms. "Let me take her. I don't get to spend as much time with her as I'd like to with you two living so far away."

Edward's expression was soft as he looked at me then, because he was used to my father getting his digs in while he could. Edward only needed to venture into the city every once in a while to deal with the business side of his music, but my father knew that there was very little, if any, work for someone in my field in a small town like Forks.

"You act like Seattle is on the other side of the world, Dad," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him. "You don't see Carlisle and Esme making a big deal about Rose and Em living out there. And Alice and Jasper travel-"

"You could be closer, is all I'm saying." He kissed Renee's flushed red cheek, effectively ending the conversation for now. "One more story," he said, nuzzling his face into her hair, "and then you have to go to sleep."

"I wanna stay up and watch that big ball fall down," she said through a huge, mouth widening yawn.

Dad smiled at her, and tried to appeal to her book-loving side; the one that could sit through hours and hours of stories without so much as a peep. "Let's just read a story and we'll see how that goes."

"_Four_ stories," she said, puffing out her bottom lip into a pout. She had my father wrapped right around her little finger, and she knew it.

"_Two_," my father replied. "Two stories. It's late."

Renee pressed her little hands against my father's cheeks and simply said, "No, Grampa. Four is good."

Dad kissed her cheek, and I didn't think I'd ever seen his face so bright. "Okay, pumpkin. We'll see how it goes."

The two of them disappeared upstairs in a flurry of chatter about monsters and forests and the king of all wild things, and at that point even my father knew that he would be reading four stories that night.

Edward turned and gave me that sly grin he sometimes wore whenever it was just the two of us in the wonderful, peaceful quiet. I rose up on my tiptoes to kiss him then, because we had to take advantage of moments like these, and Edward's hands moved to my hips to steady me.

It's funny how some things get worse over time, and yet others get better. Edward's lips knew mine by heart, and as our mouths melted together in soft, slow, warm kisses, it was the absolute best kind of familiarity.

Edward's lips brushed my forehead as I came back down to solid ground, and we held onto each other in the middle of our kitchen with the faint voices of our family members floating around us.

"If they're reading what I think they are, your services are going to be needed in less than five minutes, tops," I said.

Edward laughed. "I can't help it if I have an unparalleled talent with monster voices."

I sighed softly, closing my eyes and leaning into Edward as his fingers massaged that spot on my back that was becoming achier by the day. "That feels _really_ good."

"Well, these hands _are_ like magic," Edward said, laughing.

I lightly swatted at his stomach, and smiled. "Such an ego," I said. I couldn't deny it though; after all these years, whether they were brushing across ivory keys under the spotlight of the stage, or brushing across ivory skin under the covers on our bed, those hands could definitely do some magical, _magical_ things.

"You love me," he said, gently placing his hands on either side of my face.

"I guess," I replied. "You possess all the qualities I find hard to resist. Nice voice, sturdy build. You can fix a leaky faucet, and you know how to use a lawn mower."

"Don't forget the magic hands," Edward said, running them down my neck and across my shoulders down my arms, as a wicked, wonderful grin spread across his face.

"I could _never_. And to be honest, I'm kinda fond of these, too," I said, reaching up to press my lips against his, all sweet and tender.

When I pulled back and looked at him; his eyes so green and bright and full of life, I could see that boy who had always made my heart race, even before I knew he was the one chasing after it. The one who helped me pull myself up when I fell, who pushed me when I needed pushing, and who gave my memories light and life and breath.

My fingers slid down his neck and over his broad chest until I rested my palm right there in the center. "But I think this," I said, feeling the steady thumping through my skin, "this is the part I love the most."

Then that boy put his hand over mine, and dropped his forehead down to rest against mine, and we were just two kids all wrapped up in each other, a million years and miles away. Until-

"Daddy, we need you!"

We laughed, because this was just the way things happened for us these days. We could get lost and then snapped back into reality in the blink of an eye. And we wouldn't have it any other way.

"Looks like I'm being summoned for my performance," Edward said, gently pulling away from me while letting our hands linger together for as long as they could.

"Break a leg," I said, smiling at my husband as he looked back at me before he disappeared down the hallway.

I went back to my beans, and not a single soul passed through the kitchen until they were cooling and almost ready to be put in the refrigerator.

"I think she's starting to konk out," my father said, picking a piece of bread up off of the plate next to me. "She's a little live wire. I forgot what it was like when you were that young. I don't think my ancient knees can handle trying to keep up with her."

I laughed. "Stop it."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, standing back so he could give me the usual once over.

I smiled, and shrugged my shoulders. "My feet hurt a little bit, but other than that I'm good. _Great_, actually."

He placed his hands on my shoulders, then leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Thank you for this," he said, his eyes a little watery.

I nodded, and smiled at him. "I promised, didn't I?"

"You sure did," he said, reaching over to pat my hand.

I knew there was no way for Dad to understand that our New Year's gatherings were not an _obligation_, and that I looked forward to them more than almost anything. I never would've guessed it was possible that so many big things in one person's life could be tied up into one night, but the story of me and Edward could be mapped out over the course of the hours that turned one year into another. And while our yearly tradition may have reminded my father of the love of his life, it helped me find the love of mine.

"Twenty years from now, you'll be standing here complaining about chasing a mini James around," I teased. Even if James never procreated, it was an amusing thing to think about.

Dad grinned. "That's if the kid doesn't break his neck driving around in that Mustang," he said.

"Emmett wouldn't let him go out in it if it wasn't safe," I said. As much as my dad joked about that, I knew it worried him as much as it worried Victoria.

"It's safe," James said, rolling his eyes as he loped into the room, his shoulders hunched to hide the height that had suddenly stretched his body out over the summer. He flipped his shaggy hair out of his eyes as he leaned over the kitchen island to grab an apple. "Em said it just needs new brakes and a tune-up."

"A Christmas miracle," I said sarcastically, swatting at him. James just rolled his eyes at me, a habit he still hadn't grown out of in his seventeen years. It was almost comforting, the way the smartass always remained a smartass.

"You go on up and say goodnight, Bells. Let me take care of putting this away," Dad said, pulling a stack of Tupperware down from that cherry wood cabinet he'd spent so much time inspecting all those years ago.

"Okay," I replied, smiling. "Make sure James keeps his hands off. I only made enough for an army."

"Nice, Bella," James said, his voice strangely deep now. "_Nice_."

I winked at him as I turned the corner, and I walked up the stairs and down the long hallway until I reached the very last door on the left-hand side. The room was dim, lit by two small nightlights shaped like butterflies. Edward stood right in the middle, holding our sleepy daughter in his arms, her hands clasped loosely around his neck and her feet dangling on either side of his hips.

His back was toward me, so I leaned against the door frame and watched him as he rocked her gently from side to side.

"_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day...When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May..._"

She'd always loved it when he sang to her, and in that respect she was very much her mother's daughter. It was moments like these, the quiet ones here in Forks away from the bustle of the city, that made me realize how much I longed for my children to have the same kind of upbringing I had. I wanted them to ride their bikes down to the ice cream shop on a lazy summer day, and to work in the diner after school, just like I did. I wanted them to find their own Rosalie, Emmett, Alice and Jasper; those friends who stick by you no matter what, who sometimes know you better than you know yourself.

And it was moments like these, when I felt so full and I knew I was right where I was supposed to be, when I wanted, more than anything, for them to find that person who made their heart fly and their knees weak and their lips smile. The one who made them believe that they could do or be anything, who helped them _become_ those things, by loving them and letting them be themselves, just like Edward had done all of that for me.

"Hi, Mommy," Renee said in her sweet, sleep-hazed voice.

"Hi sweetie," I replied, smiling.

Edward turned to walk over toward me, and when he was close enough, he tucked me under his free arm. I rested my head on his chest and smiled at my daughter, rubbing her back through the bright pink fabric of her footie pajamas.

"I see how it is," I said, teasing Edward. "Now I'm the low man on the totem pole when it comes to this singing business."

"Oh," he replied mischievously, twirling his fingers around the ends of my hair, "I've got something special planned for you later."

I could feel myself blush as I turned my cheek against his soft cotton shirt. From the tone of his voice, I knew he was talking about more than a song.

"Is it time for the ball?" Renee asked, rubbing her eyes with her fists. I should've known it would be pointless to try to get her to sleep tonight.

I looked down at my watch, and nodded. "Yes, it's time."

"Can I see?" she asked as she looked up at Edward, all wide, hopeful eyes and excitement.

"Yes," Edward said, before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. "You can see."

A few minutes later, we stood in the living room, which was just bursting with chatter and laughter and love.

"C'mere, munchkin," James said, holding his arms out so Renee could latch herself around him. She ran to him, of course, because he was the one who pushed her Big Wheel around the driveway and helped her catch frogs underneath the tree in the backyard. He laughed as he kissed her cheek and held her, the two of them standing next to my father, who had Victoria wrapped in his arms.

Once children entered the picture, the loud late-night celebrations at the diner gave way to quiet, smaller affairs here at our house. I was sure one day we'd make our way back to that old place where so many wonderful things happened, but as I looked at the faces of all the people I loved, I knew it didn't matter where we did the celebrating, as long as we did it together.

And _that_ was the best tradition of all.

Edward and I stood back from the small crowd of people, always wanting to steal a little piece of this night away for ourselves. I smiled as I looked up at him, running my finger through that unruly patch of hair that I loved so much, still wild after all these years. The backs of his fingers brushed my cheek as he brought his other hand down to rest on my side, his thumb gently brushing my belly.

Edward said a soft '_I love you_,' in a quiet breath that warmed my skin, and I whispered the same with words that brushed his ear, his cheek, his chin.

Then slowly, _so_ slowly, I brought my lips to his, their favorite place to be, and I kissed him over the cheer-filled countdown of the people standing around us.

"_Five…four…three…two…one…_"

* * *

**Now, if you'll indulge me for just a second, there are a few people I need to thank:**

**This story was my friend Tor's plot bunny. I don't know if it would've ever been written if she hadn't asked me to do it, and even though it wasn't always easy, I'm so thankful that she trusted me with her wonderful, original idea. I've enjoyed letting these characters live inside my head for the past few months, and I'm very proud of the final product.**

**At various points during this story, WriteOnTime, siouxchef and shutupinyerface have had the unfortunate task of reading through this and catching my mistakes. Believe me, I make a lot of them, and these ladies are saints. Any errors that you spot in the final product belong to me, not them.**


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